Melting Pot

The mind, my mind, is a melting pot. I add and add stuff and singing Baggage and things. The pot can only hold so much, Not enough it seems. People dump their stuff inside I churn out a stew to keep their stride Hold them up, Tighter and tighter To see them fall Would make things lighter If you add the wrong thing to the pot It can boil over, very very hot. I race and I think faster and harder Words can't articulate, No more can thoughts form My pot becomes a blurry amalgamation Of who I once was Who I am Who I will be Until eventually the pot boils over I can think again, clear and sober From these things that forced it full Until they force it full again.