Hold composure



Of false exposure-



What do they think?



What do they know ?



What do they think they know?



And what will they say?




Put up a shield, fend off difference.



Turn a back,



Turn a back on truth,



On change,




on monotony.




Is it in



or is it out?



Through



or around?



Too many thoughts,



Too many sounds,



Going and coming,




shifting



Up




and down.



Too much to take in,



When I’m spinning so fast,



Too fast to see,



The change between



The circles and the blurs



Out of a hole in the ground.



Will I ever be still?




Trains all leaving from different stations,



Going to the same place.



Trains all leaving




Leading different directions,



Into the unknown




and the far too familiar.



My thoughts traveling beyond the clear



In the wake of the smoke and the engines roar.



When will this end?



To gain it all back when order was near,



And to be in that place,



In that spot where I kept,



Everything in tact,



Hidden from view,



In a corner in my room,



Where my innermost secrets-




Like a fire-



Was kept inside myself,



Hiding from all.




Glance and you’d miss it,



Look closely; the image will display,




To see I am a mold.



I bend.



I twist.



I shape.



I change.




I don’t change.



Not to stand for my own,



My thoughts on piggy-back,



Too scared to touch the ground for themselves.




To understand others more clearly,



My biggest fault yet.



To trust my own thoughts-



Own judgment and gut-



Why does that take,



So much change, more change




Then keeping with the grain?




Emotions sensitized by worrisome thoughts,



Molded into my shell



Transforming, distorting.



Thoughts that were once my own,





Now are ashes,



Tiny ashes of what was pure.



Ashes of right turning wrong.



Is it me?



Or is it them?