It’s a story that has been told over and again:
A child holding in a mental scream
With a smile on her face,
Because the outside is too tired to display accurate reflection.
Thoughts branching, like an unruly tree,
Somehow, no matter how far away the branches get,
Their root remains the same.
Head is playing merry-go-round,
But it feels like a roller-coaster,
When I’d much rather be on a water slide…
Dear Mr X,
I have so much to tell you,
And maybe, one day,
I’ll have the courage
And the words.
But for now,
A hug will suffice.
Once I sort out
The chaos in my head
Is not listening to order
A consequence or a cause?
How could I tell you a thing
When I can’t even admit the truth to myself?