I am still. I’m good at still.
Thrash is all around me, yet I am still.
It may be peace. Perhaps it’s fear. Maybe it’s both.
I’m happy to live. I’m afraid of life.
No, not afraid of it. Afraid to waste it.
There’s so much to do.
So much I want. So much to give.
I want to know. Yet, I don’t want to know.
Open eyes are best.
But being informed makes me a little crazy.
My heart is open, though. Dangerous as that sometimes is.
I want to leave an impact, but stay obscure.
It’s good to remember. Even when it’s hard.
It’s quiet, for once, inside my head.
I don’t know what that means.