splendor 》poetry

𝕣𝕦𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤

Ruminations, ruminations.
Thoughts of all different combinations,
And I try to focus on concentration,
But that train has left the station.

Who I am or who I want to be—
It's not always about wanting things to be clean.
Spick and span will never fully settle my routines;
My obstacle is when I look in the mirror, who is staring back at me?

Every single word I say is run over in my head,
Like the tires of a pickup truck over every letter they tread.
And why can I find the needle in the haystack but I can't untangle my thread?
Grey belongs to black and white but what comes between green and red?

Stop or go? Wrong or right?
The latter choices are my daily plights.
If I do this does it mean that I'm that?
Up from the dark sewers come a thousand rats.

Scattering and scampering, unnumbered but by the dozen.
Depression is an á-la-mode, obsession's favorite cousin.
Morality is my least favorite subject, because I have to chase it if it's runnin'.
But I trip on the contradictions and I just end up tumblin'.

Even writing I cannot do; does this mean I'm getting bad again?
Should I just zip it up and keep it discreet so I won't be "that girl" again?
There's so many lines and boundaries and I try so hard not to cross them.
So many different "this means thats" I have simply just lost count of them.

My personality is a swingset outside in a tornado,
Back and forth, back and forth; oblivion is my ultimatum.
My diagnosis may be incorrect; another thing I will have to veto.
Can I just stop ruminating and put my mind to ease? No.