there's a storm brewing inside of my chest
a heaviness that none can contest
of course, i might have written this out of context

i feel a lightning about to strike
a heavy hand's swift slap
that takes someone off-guard
a flutter of reasoning
like the wings of bird trapped in a gilded cage
fussing about listlessly as if someone
somehow caught itself in the trap of its talons
and does not, for the life of him, has the energy to escape

squished and pushed into the deepest, darkest, back of the room
conscience has no place
in this state of confusion
i try very hard to snap out of it
but every night, at 12 p.m., i find myself thinking of
what if and what could've been
wishing  (as if somehow i could wish it into existence)
someone would care enough
to extend their hand from above
and pull me back up from the mess i made a home in