Ridden by it
Thoughts never cease
Carooming around
Inside my skull
Churning the butterflies
Alive in my gut.
Try to be logical,
To make a plan,
Taking some action,
All I have to show
Is naught,
That’s a nitro burst
For my stress.
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Ridden by it
Thoughts never cease
Carooming around
Inside my skull
Churning the butterflies
Alive in my gut.
Try to be logical,
To make a plan,
Taking some action,
All I have to show
Is naught,
That’s a nitro burst
For my stress.
Posted on January 23, 2019 at 3:10 AM in Mike, Poetry | RSS feed | Reply | Trackback URL
This is similar to how I feel when I’m anxious/stressed! It’s almost as if being frozen into inaction.
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