Head

I got things running through my head. Strange things. Right things. Wrong things. Comfy things. Scary things. All these things running around my head all at once unable to stop and I feel the need to scream but my voice cannot be found. An image of myself upon each shard of a shattered mirror, each image more terrifying than the other. The innocent child, the fierce protector, the mischievous prankster, the quiet thinker, the outward, the inward, so many more they clash for control and there is no glue to hold the pieces together so they continue to break into new pieces until nothing is left but dust. Nothing makes sense yet everything does. Do not try to interpret, it will never make sense. Nothing worse than having one’s head ripped apart. Do not try to understand the madness, just go with it. It’s wild.