I pace over my torn carpet, taking slow, deep breaths.
I know today is a stress volcano,
But I’m charging myself through its brunt, welding anthem in my pocket, hands first.
“I can do this. I can surmount this. I am strong.”
I picture the mind like a bottle and stopper sometimes. When it's contents are filled to capacity and the skull feels like a shook-up soda bottle, I choose to remove the stopper and let thoughts pour out onto paper.
I pace over my torn carpet, taking slow, deep breaths.
I know today is a stress volcano,
But I’m charging myself through its brunt, welding anthem in my pocket, hands first.
“I can do this. I can surmount this. I am strong.”