There’s a storm
In my brain
But the rain
Is clear

Why can’t I go to sleep?
When I do it just repeats.
“I don’t care if you don’t like this beat
It’s what I think, it’s me, it’s me,”
She said to herself in her bed.
I’m fighting against myself
The battle turned into a war,
And I’m not afraid, I’m just worried
Worried about being a warrior.  
I fight all day, my soul is tired
But I don’t let myself rest when the time is best or when it expires
The night falls but my heartbeat rises,
Racing thoughts run circles in my head.
My head, my bed.
My brain is inside of my head.
My head is part of me.
Aren’t we all just a brain in a cage?
Tonight the cage is electric,
Nothing soothes the rage or stops the sizzling pain.
I’m numb to the zap of the cold, hard metal.
I want to lay in a field of sage,
Lay me among the wildflowers.
I’ve never seen blue sky or blinding light,
At least not in the night.
The moon shines, but not enough for me!
This perfect creation isn’t bright enough for me!
At least not in the night...
I will lay my head when all this passes
I’ll wander off to sleep
And the next time I come to bed,
It will just repeat.

Thoughts racing,
trying to fill another page of this book with my story,
sewing in new sheets of paper to build some space.
Space between me and the page saying
The End.

Turning the pages, looking back at some from many years ago.
I read about a little girl, happily exploring the world.
She doesn't know about pain or despair.
Just look at her glowing eyes.

Progressing in the story, a few years later.
I watch a little girl, crying, covered by the blanket.
She doesn't want others to see, 'cause they'll just laugh anyway.
In her home, she has no room.
The whole house is filled with her father yelling.
The whole house is filled with her mother crying.
The only place for her sorrow is deep inside herself.
Just look at her puffy eyes.

Skipping a few chapters, years of searching and hoping.
I hear a little girl, laughing loud.
Nobody heard her screams when she needed them.
At least, when she's being loud, they notice her.
Being lost and out of control she hurts others.
When they scold her, they look at her.
Just look at her pleading eyes.

Going through pages of her trying to understand what she's done.
I hear a little girl swearing she'll never hurt anybody else.
She'd rather hurt herself to cope with the severe cold of this world.
So she builds a wall to keep everyone out,
to trap the wrath inside.
But she forgot the fear was already there.
Just look at her empty eyes.

Flipping the pages to read the ones from a few weeks ago.
I see a little girl drowning in tears and self doubt.
Apparently the wall she built long time ago is still standing strong.
A lot of 'Wanted' posters are hung on it from both sides,
but neither can reach through.
Just look at her anxious eyes.

I'm sitting here crying,
hoping my tears will wash away the letters on these pages.
But they won't.

So I'll keep on sewing pages.
Hoping one day I'll read the one about a girl who's come home.
About a girl who tore down the wall,
about a girl who built a place in a house to live in.
Until then I hope to have enough strength to put
space between me and the page saying
The End.

Symptoms?
Heart is racing!
Chest is aching!
Pits are sweating!
Hands are shaking!
Breath is heaving!
World is swaying!

Diagnosis?
Love.

Speed is cold.
Speed is cruel.
Speed is merciless.

Speed is a smile, at speed.
Blink and it's gone.

lining up at the start
that's all it takes
just line up

you cant win if you dont try
can you?

thoughts are passing cars today;
ever changing,
constantly
on the move.
colors blur
and details clash.
one after the other,
the next
faster than
the last.