Weird is the New Normal

Poem 7.

My head is full.

I am not playing it cool.

Everything around...

Every single sound...

It isn't making my head empty.

It isn't making me happy.

Normally I am a burning fire...

But this is making me really tired.

I don't have any motivation.

I don't have any concentration.

It all just feels too much.

Like every choice is made in a rush.

I just want to be alone.

To be able to think on my own.

I just want to be.

With nothing bothering me.

There is a storm inside,

But I have nowhere to hide.

It's anything but peaceful.

And I am just trying to be grateful.

Because I know people have it worse.