Poem: The Mind of an Overthinker

Can words flow out like weight flows in?

Can I take myself apart,

leave some pieces behind?

Will day turn to dark?

Will it all settle down,

hide the damage, conceal the scars?

I think too much.

Tiny tales twirling through my head.

Where do I go from here?

Can I see into the future?

Chase my goals,

curate a museum of achievements.

If I could go back in time,

all the things I would change

to be different, standing here.

Puzzle pieces I haven’t fit together yet,

broken glass unset.

I’m not good with these words,

or am I?

I fly like planes in the sky,

I run like tigers in the wild.

I write line after line

I can’t find the right side.

Do my words even matter?

Will anyone care?

Can they see my shadows

dancing in the air?

Sometimes I can’t slow down.

A million thoughts and wishes,

circling around.

I’m going too fast for them,

too slow for me.

Where am I going?

Do they understand what I’m saying?

Is there sense in what I’m conveying?

The mind of an overthinker.

The mind of an overthinker.

Should I keep going?