Writing therapy

My mind has been cooking up stories
Each one worse than the one before
I can’t focus.
Why do thoughts get so tainted?

All my insecurities come to surface
What must you think of me?
What do I want you to think of me?
Do you even think of me?

My world feels more gray
And the sky is crying frozen ice
Where are my colors and sunshine
With great promise.
Where are my singing birds?

It isn’t supposed to be like this
But then, I don’t know what it’s
Supposed to be like, having your
Feelings out in the open, bare.

I used to be good at hiding
Thinking and deciding,
weighing pros and cons.
But now, here I am, all the pros
And cons thrown about in the wind.

And now I can’t even think
My words and thoughts make no sense
I keep writing and hoping
To make the situation less tense.
I keep writing and I hoping to
Make more sense.
I keep writing and hoping.


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