I feel inadequate,
To say the least.
I mostly feel mad about it,
It's like taming a beast.
I haven't written my jittery thoughts down,
I haven't been able to feel the dark creeping again,
But I feel it now.
I feel every bit of cold,
I feel every bit of sadness,
All I want to feel is fire.
Fire upon any desire,
Other than this.
Other than the plague of my existence on every warm night,
On every sunny day.
I'm like the ******* highway during rush hour between holidays,
A struggle to maintain this facade of normality.