Pieces of Me
In the corner,
There are piles of tapes,
Past voices, and pieces of memories,
Some, when played, humans begin to take shape.
It's my nostalgic mess,
Filled with broken conversations,
Embarrassing situations,
Those times where I wasn't at all my best.
It occupies most of the space,
Next to the files of names,
And places,
And faces.
The air around here,
Is filled with the warmth of my beating heart.
My love for certain objects and things.
Freckles, animals, the relaxed feeling after being apart.
Cities, feelings from the sunrise,
Reside here.
An extensive, passionate pile,
I hold very dear.
Here thrives my desire,
The desire for everyone to be happy.
The intense care I have for every being,
Despite what you may be seeing.
Oh, you wonder what that heap of terrifying chaos over there is?
We don't touch it.
Deep inside of it, sits and grows,
Stress and Fret.
They play together a medley of horrifying sounds,
In that mound they pick around,
Infecting my entire mind.
Will I ever be fine?
They hit rewind on my tapes,
Leave me in tears with moments from before years.
Fret gets into my files,
Frightening me into wondering, "Will they stay a while?"
On and on, they play,
Sometimes Stress and Fret are at bay.
Other days,
Chaos reigns.
You can leave now.
Come back soon.
When you do,
There may be something new.
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