Something. Different.

Have you ever felt so overwhelmingly full that you empty everything within
Just so you can feel something. Different?

It seems everyone has it...the gift that would often set us apart from the rest
The sacred words between my temples
The painful truths within my chest
It seems they all have found my key
And they're standing at my doors
And I want to let them in, but I can’t fit any more
And deep down I know it’s time
It just takes me longer to read it
The analog clocks keep ticking 
I hold my breath, and count the reasons

See I’ve been playing this game for years, there is no way to beat it
I was just hoping to feel something. Different. I need it.

But yet here I am staring through the pane
As these windows hold the outside
I wonder If I’ll ever venture out again
Because hope has rooted deep in me
It laid its roots and bound me tight
And so even if I didn’t want to
I couldn’t help but fight
I turned back on notifications
I couldn’t not reply

I’m an optimistic person, can’t go wrong, at least I tried
Just so I can feel something. Different. On the inside.

Yes I still write poetry
It is the thing that keeps me straight
I’m like a 100 flying papers
All my thoughts go separate ways
Have you ever tried to catch them
Often misjudge their destination as they stray
But when I pen them down - they stay put
As if they surrender under weight
And I hold them hostage, as if my possession
If not for months, a few weeks, just days
I channel them and share them
So then away they’re off again

Perhaps if I can get enough of this out of me, I will reclaim some internal space
And maybe then… I can feel something. Different. In its place.