I can't seem to find the right words to say,
With all these rushing thoughts that never seem to stop coming night and day.
My mind is on the brink of an overload.
Because of this,
This everlasting fear that I'll never be able to write again finds its way to stay prevalent,
And yet I still can't find the right words to express this pain.
Each time I write, it becomes another poem I am forced to throw away,
Allowing this pain to continuously build up.
My glass is half empty, but it's still able to tip.
The weight of all these thoughts,
If sloshed, will spill everything in an instance.
And I fear what will come next.
With all these thoughts of mind spilled out,
It can freely infect those who are near.
I want the few people around me to stay clear,
But I don't want to be more alone than I already am.
If this glass spills, so will the tears,
Of my family, and anyone who may appear,
Because I know if my glass spills,
Soon after I will inevitably disappear.
