Where am I, you ask?

Lost in the clutter of my mind

Thoughts all jumbled up
Like a spool of tangled thread
And just as thin
So close to breaking

Fingers get caught
And slowly turn purple
Once released, permanent damage remains

My conscience plays the fingers
My mind the thread

Pull to hard,
the thread snaps
Don’t pull enough,
and it’s forever knotted

I had a poem
it paused for a minute then
it floated away

The effort it took
For a gain
The price of the same
Strenuous work
A little elbow grease
For the product to sell
An empty shelf
These things
For the wealth
Of a better self
On a temporary earth
The effort it took
Was a payment that could
Never repay
What it cost
For the worth