Drowning in Poetry

Infinite

I'm constantly overwhelmed
by how much I have to say
that I know I'll never be finished
until my dying day

But even then,
will I have said enough?
will I get to say everything?
every idea I've ever thought?

I have so many things
things that I'd like to say
ideas that could impact someone
maybe even the whole world one day

But I'm so concerned
every idea is dear to me
how many will be lost?
how many will the world never see?

I've always known I'd write
but I never knew it's burden
these ideas create stories
and they're everywhere like carbon

But the problem with carbon
is exactly that; it's everywhere
how many stories have been lost
because of ideas lost here and there

How many more stories
could I have written
if I hadn't lost any ideas?
if none were forgotten?

And that's why writing is my opiate
why I can never slow my tempo
in my mind I think:
one more down;
infinity more to go