Writing Journal 2021

funhouse mirrors

Welcome to my brain.

You can take a look around.

Step into my pain

And see what sits behind each frown.

It's a circus in my head.

Sometimes I hear the lions roar

Saying everything is wrong.

Though my feet are on the ground

I am swirling through a loop,

Dodging thoughts that try to cut

And TEAR and SLICE and GRIP

Until I'm all but eaten up.

Careful where you walk.

The ground is paper thin. 

Voices talk and talk and talk

Until everything caves in.

You can hear the music play,

A cacophony of colliding, ugly noise.

I can take a simple thought

And spin and spin and spin

Until all the colors bleed together, 

Creating a mess I cannot stand.

I'm a magician. Watch me

Make something out of nothing.

I feel I look like a clown.

Hope my wig is on straight.

I would get out of town

If I knew how to escape.

There's the part of me that knows

That everything is just fine.

I am solid, I am safe, I am me.

But the funhouse mirrors in my brain

Can't be stopped.

They show me every single angle

All at once, till it's too much.

All the maybes can't be true.

A head can only wear so many hats.

I cared too much,

Created my own cage.

The bars will not nudge

Without the rage.

Anger breaks the spell,

Smashing the warped glass of the mirrors.

You can watch the pieces fall,

Let the wind sweep them away

Like the beginning breeze of fall.

With it, the circus leaves.

I'm left with me.

I'm left with peace.

Until the circus comes back to town.