Is it weird, that I sit here, thinking about the now?
Thoughts are cleared, and I might fear, that I'm lost somehow?
In this moment, I feel alive, and it's rather freeing.
But I'm broken, and I'm deprived, how am I so late to seeing?
Fear sets in, mind starts to race, and my heart beats faster.
I begin, "I don't like this place," but I stop with no answer.
I write, to escape.