I. Can’t. Write.
My feelings are feeling me.
How do I know? I’m out of control.
My thoughts are thinking me.
How do I know? I want control.
I knew it couldn’t have been long
until I burst into the song
of who’s right and who’s wrong.
Do I let myself cherish the good
or do I keep coming up with new things that could trigger a flood?
The flood of feelings that I always felt
and always knew I would.
Do I still play according to “no pain, no game”?
Well, that’s a shame.
Haven’t I learned anything this year?
But wait, there’s a feeling here …
If I put my hands over my womb,
I hear it whispered softly
… that my peace resides there where my pain hides.