Collection of Poem Things

Worried

What do you have to be so worried about?

She asked me this while we were working on a puzzle. We couldn't get the pieces to fit, the border couldn't withstand the interior. As we added more, it stretched and bowed to try and fit it all, and I thought, why can't just one thing go right?

Enter thought spiral.

Enter bad scenario into worse scenario into worst case scenario.

Enter I don't want to say anything because my brain keeps firing so fast and I don't want to cry.

Enter I don't want you to know how bad things are getting in my head.

It must be defective. We should bring it back to the store. She told me.

I told her that things usually aren't defective, it's just people being stupid not knowing how to work them.

They sold a bad puzzle. It's broken and we should bring it back.

The spiral deepens.

As words and sounds compound, I decide the boat looks too long, and I move the pieces, giving room for the surroundings.

I move to the whale and do the same, making the long narrow body shorter and fat.

Everything fit, and was OK.

The spiral halts, and my brain begins to defuzz.

I tell her that I'm happy it's okay. That I needed something to go right.

She looks at me perplexed, but not with gentle curiosity, accusing and mean.

What do you have to be so worried about?

The wave that always laps at the shore swells. Ever present, ever growing, always waiting to engulf and drown me. I face it and look up at her.

I give my mom a small smile and say, school, work, but I'll be alright.

I lie through my teeth. Because I don't want to say what's really bothering me, I would rather watch the wave push against my sea walls then let them fall for it to engulf me. For it to engulf others.

After all, what do I have to be so worried about?