To be completely honest,
I’m not sure, what it is I’m trying to do.
Writing poetry, I’ve never really been good with words.

I struggle with conveying my thoughts and dreams
into something solid, I only envision shadows in my mind,
I can never clear away the darkness —
My conscience trapped behind a fog.
even know, calling it out.
It hides from me.

It’s lost, how I feel, any thought I had becomes a migraine,
I pressure I can’t seem to get rid of.

Perhaps, I’ve completely locked myself away,
so that I cannot be harmed any longer.