Contort

Such a giant box between
the way I feel and the way I talk
I feel short, locked, a lack of
wait stop, I can't assemble my thoughts
when the sudden drop leaves an empty spot
I swear in my mind an idea forms
but the words, the question marks
and the part with the full stops
lose themselves with every pause
Slowly I start to contort

I feel withdrawn I feel refined
with Tyler's music it's the only thing
that fills my mind
with the time on my hands
and my hands on my head
I repeat each rhyme just to rub away the ache
that's pain, to only have your screaming
to block out silence when I'm grieving
when the broken is fixed
and the despair repaired
this time I should be sleeping