I sit
in silence
but never
is it silent
when you live in
my head.

Thoughts will
always
flash by,
like a race car
in a thundering
arena.

They don’t
just leave
though.

My head is a
Venus fly trap
for ‘bad’ thoughts.

It latches
on.

Some people try
and say
to be grateful
for all of the
opportunities
the thoughts give me.

They say I’m
creative.

That’s not
the right word
though.

Creative is too bright,
too chipper.

Wild imagination,
another common one.

It’s better,
to an extent.

But what no one
can seem to think of
is struggling.

It’s not
that it’s hard
to think of.

They’re just
scared.

It’s okay,
I understand.

I’m scared too.