Millions of thoughts, fighting in my head.
Which will I pick, to move ahead.
Words spilling, through my mouth.
Neither soft, nor loud.
No order, just my feelings,
Which, through my fingers, are leaking.
Yet I am still stuck, in the depths of my soul.
I'm writing, but I'm losing control.
Digging my nails into my palm,
I'm trying to breath and stay calm.
I open my hand and see the scars,
There's blood trickling down my arm.
Now I have an idea, at least I think I do,
But then again, maybe it's better I stay confused.