I am stuck in this head brain
Barred in and overwhelmed
pain and memories
brim to the surface of my mind
yet I treat them like nothing
as if I could ignore them into extinction
myself
a loathed pronoun
The thing I can’t stop thinking about
so starts the severance
take this pen look closely the black point of ink
That has welled out onto the tip
lines of refraction
so detailed and plain
there is no pain that this pen feels
it just is, and does
if I can become like this pen