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.