I'm like a child who cries itself to sleep,
but instead of crying, what I do is think.
I think myself insane, analyzing every bit,
until my heart rate quickens and I work up a panicking fit.
Pros and cons, Yesses and nos.
Assumptions without asking, highs and lows.
I take the thought and flip it over,
play with it.
Obsessive compulsive to put it in its place.
You know when it's happening from the expression on my face;
A blank, heavy stare with wide, vacant eyes.
An idea to examine and try on for size.
And when I've done what I can with the puzzles in my head,
I've no choice but to crawl, exhausted, into bed.