Distraction like a dog
Hunting down a squirrel
Darting up a tree--
Chaotic barking all along the way.
Finish line blocked by a wall--
Arm's length away.
Mood like the swings when we were kids,
But dragging along the wood chips beneath our toes
Instead of soaring above.
Like a tree towering over a crushed flower,
But merely a memory
Of what trauma occurred before.
Box shriveled,
Wall blocking opportunity,
Throat closed,
I'm an artichoke,
Choking on what I need to say,
But can't.
Repetition like a
Broken record,
Broken record,
Broken record,
No record of an end.
Whirlwind around me,
So I hold onto the calories.
A tug-of-war between healthy and skinny,
Chaos and control.
Electricity screams,
Glow burns,
Small talk small,
Crowded conversation
A mess of a mirage.
If only they were to
Slow
Down,
Consider my different way of speaking,
And read what I can't verbalize.
My voice is found in the places it takes care to look
And consideration to hear.
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