Head feels like a liquorice allsort,
One bit from one half gets inside the other -
Cosy in a roll.
It’s feeding on stuff from my brain
Doing somersaults getting fat.
Not going outside
My brain.  Knowing all about the inside instead of
Knowing you.

My brain is getting less scared
No need to find its voice.
Before, it looked like it had grown
Because it had to keep on changing.
But now it can sit,
Hear itself
Talk.
And takes a new direction
Inwards,
Not outwards accommodating fear.

Sometimes I feel strange in the middle.
Thinking I might break.
Not used to being here.
But it's ok,
My shell is as hard as a walnut and I cradle warm and snug.
Look to the future,
Roll to my tune.
Outside - no need to change.
Inside see me instead of you.