My mind is a crime scene 24/7,
every thought like a knife jabbed in my heart,
even the good ones followed with a “what if.”
Turning simple things into storms is my playground,
playing arguments in my head like a broken record,
with statements too brutal to be spoken out loud.
Silence becomes hell,
my own thoughts fighting each other,
none of them leaving room for me to breathe.
And then suddenly anxiety kicks in,
everything goes static, like a blackout zone,
my mind too tired to process anything,
yet the silence still feels heavy.
Pretending to be happy and laughing at stupid jokes—
the acts I put on while replaying every sentence I said,
asking, “Did I overshare? What if they think I’m dumb?”
I wish, just for once, I could stop it.
So I live in this messed-up world of mine,
rolling my eyes at my own thoughts like,
"here the drama queen goes again."
This brain is a circus,
and the show must go on—
and so do I.
rebellious soul.
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Author:
REBELLIOUS SOUL (
Offline) - Published: August 19th, 2025 06:27
- Comment from author about the poem: hello metaphors for the ones whose brain never shuts up, feels too hard but still keeps going.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments2
Ah but so true life is a circus with all its pleasures and its fleeting nature. It is a diversion and one pays dearly for the entrance fee. Full of the exotic, freaks, acts of admiration, beauty and the unbelievable. Yet as you say the show must go on until the end of the show. A lovely metaphor
Yes indeed and perhaps what makes the circus of life so compelling is precisely its fleeting nature.
Thank you for reading.
You are most welcome
I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, Behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.
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