buried

There’s a trick to mending
stale bread
But not for the kind
that’s in your head

It takes more than moisture
to fix your noggin
Gotta get it out quick
might help to go bloggin

One dried out piece
can cause much strife
Might need to dig it out
with a wedge or a knife

The skull might crack
but the mind won’t fail
Tied to the heart
though it’s not as frail

Once the ration is plucked
you’ll feel much better
Traipsing through life
now unfettered

But a boy who clings
to stale bread
Well in his mind
he’s already dead

Photo generated with AI

girl-850117_1280 (1)

I try to mask it
But it’s there
Buried deep
But not deep enough
Layers of days
And even years
Piling on top
Pushing it down
Trying to erase
The ugliness
The pain
The absurdity
All the lies
One small dagger
Could put an end
To all the misery
All that I feel
And yet even conviction
Of a self
I hardly know
Could right
All that’s wrong
But doubt stifles
My strength
Yielding both scenarios
Futile and foolish
So I continue
To suffer
In endless silence
Because I fail
To utilize
The power
I myself hold
To change
To make a difference
Even a slight one
But still…
If only I trusted
The outcome
If only I believed
In myself