There is this agony inside that uncontrols me,
usurps my will for rational,
usurps my temporal being.
It uncontrols me, without revealing itself
to that being uncontrolled;
it hides itself
from me

it is me

it’s obvious to those around me
but only the closest;
only the few who can be hurt
so easily by me

my only outlet
my only prison

of mind and soul to this uncontrolled
and unstable state of being

a state of me
an obstruction to being free

and a result of lack of freedom
to discover and be me

a cycle inescapable,
but breakable.
by something that’s had no start yet,
which makes it hard to see an end

it’s a wait and see

uncontrolled this cycle.

forgotten sometimes
on a bicycle

but still a looming state
of being

a state that is defining me.
that is me.