I feel as though a gentle breeze could knock me over,

While the week is done,
I have been finished,
By the storm of work and woes.

So tired
The baby next to me
Is loud
I'm worried
The thoughts
Run a marathon
And it goes
On
And
On
And
On
And
On
My heartbeat racing
My mind is tracing
Every fear,
That could come near,
It's more than insecurities,
It's rather severe.

I'm anxious on the train.

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.

I have a bin,
A bin,
A bin of every wish.

Every wish I’ve had,
Every wish sin-clad,
And every wish sung bis.

My wishes are all
So selfish,
For I only wish
To learn
What I would become
When every written page
I’ve read is ever burned.

I’ve wished for life,
I’ve wished for death,
I’ve wished to see
A final breath
Escape the lungs
Of those I love
Just to see if I
Would cry.
I wish that I
Would die.

I toss my thoughts,
My dreams,
My sins,
To join my ever-
Filling bin.

I toss them all,
All to become
My own ideal eye.
I wish that I
Would die.

And though I banish
All of the thoughts
That endanger me
By existing,

A voice that sounds
Just like my own
Persists on its insisting.

I cannot cry
Or spare a sigh
For indifference
Consumes me so.

In face of fear,
Unlike a deer,
I’ll die
With my eyes shut closed.
A surely, I’ll never know.
Surely.

I do not think that people
will ever understand
the mind of poetry,
to leave these words behind
and hoping that someday
the steps I walked on by
will catch me by the hand
be my memory,
be my sanity,

We do not fight monsters
we fight illusions
that are much better
than this reality
where we are stronger,
wiser, richer, and full.

Why do I do this?
These thoughts,
In my head,
Scream cursed words of
Disappointment,
Unfulfillment,
Sorrow,
Hope.

How am I to ignore
The words that
These thoughts are telling me?

You can't make someone happy...
No one can fall for you...
You're just a middle man...
Easily forgettable...
A placeholder...
Uninteresting,
Little to no importance,
With no room to grow...
They're better off without you...
Be honest, who would?

All the smiles I wish to have,
Feels like it's unattainable,
Something only for a wish,
The luckiest thing for,
The unluckiest person.

Who am I kidding?
I already know,
These thoughts are louder.
Drowning out my thoughts of
Sanity,
Happiness,
Love.

I can’t finish a thought
but my thoughts will be the end of me..

I am definitely no poet but I like to write and I wish I could capture in my poetry
(if it can be considered poetry),
the melancholy of changing seasons
and empty sidewalks and long secret
fleeting glances.
Longing and Desire burning in the flames of youthful passion.
Or true love if that exists, I am sure it does.
The afternoon silence or
the echoing laughter on a windy day,
my love for my family, the radiant smiles of my friends.
The way sunlight decorates the ocean
waves in summer, disappears in the
monsoon,
Only to return back with shades of golden
in autumn and peeking desperately,
Trying to warm the frozen earth in desolate winter.
The utter feeling of loneliness that
connects each and every one of us,
The emotional weight of saying a goodbye
to the last year at new year's,
My childlike sense of adventure and
wonder,
Or my dread when it comes to talking
about death.
But mostly and desperately I sincerely
hope that my poetry
(that on some days I am not even sure can
be considered poetry),
captures the essence of loving and living,
A life well lived and loved that would be
called mine.

each day that passes through
another piece of truth goes loose
i'm who i want to be
but it's never easy to be so free