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.