Trapped in a tumultuous turmoil of trepidation and insecurity, a tourniquet of timidity restricting any temeritous thoughts from flowing forth to fruition;
in a word, overwhelmed.
a daily desire to put thoughts to paper, with a blackened weight ‘round my chest whispering
“Why even try?”
I was an amalgam of self-doubt, self-pity and selfishness,
so sure of the darkness I never bothered to try turning on the light
lost in my own mind, trapped in the torturous cage I’d created
Fumbling fingers found strength to reach out, embracing the darkness
finding not further discomfort, but a key
standing at the edge, above the abyss
Watching the ocean of my thoughts bubble and churn
Waves crashing higher, pressure bulding, I can taste the salt on my lips as the waters rise--
And it explodes: words, thoughts, emotions dripping from my fingers,
staining my paper instead of staining my thoughts
Gushing out a maelstrom of perfect imperfection, a tidal wave surely but dammit I will weather this storm
And when it is finished
(uncensored, warts and all)
This product of every night spent awake asking “Who am I?”
Tells not the story of who I was
But who I am.
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