Self-Contained

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Oh how lovely it is to find my thoughts in order

Neat. Tidy. A fence around their border.

Not scattered. Not shattered.

They used to be so tattered.

Blowing around me like a tornado.

Me, a rag-doll in the centre

Bruised and tender.

Who was I back then?

I couldn’t tell you.

Each piece of my brain was spinning in different directions.

I couldn’t focus on any section.

I was capable of everything. Of nothing.

I felt… I felt… small.

I felt it all.

Too much. Much too much.

Oh how nice it is to be so contained.

So restrained.

Knowing exactly how I feel.

Keeping it ‘real’.

I am at last restoring.

Then why do I feel so boring?

(c) Slumpless

 

 

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