it is difficult, being a sponge,
I feel as though I can hear
everyone else
hear what they're going through,
having so much and yet so little
patience with it all

I know time is precious and pain can take so much of it

it is tricky, staying switched on
not thinking incessantly about the feelings you may be hurting
not pausing for the boy whose heart you squished
not taking stock of what the girl has ahead to overcome
not wasting breathe when there is such a limited stock and people
are dying and you
you
have to stay
switched on

it is difficult, yes
being a sponge,
for everything is soaking in,
condensing
and space is running
out
in your fragile mind.