Through the Cracks

Jun 17

1 min read

We constantly think.

A river a thoughts,

a sea of contemplation

When something comes to mind,

you place it somewhere,

you store it.

I see my brain as a basket.

It has space for each and everything—

emotions, stories, facts, memories

Sometimes my baskets don't hold things the way it should

They slip through the cracks.

They end up where they don't belong

I move them,

I push them

But without conscious realization,

my thoughts consume me.

From top to bottom,

you find yourself lost

tyrying to hold everything

in the dark

And not let them slip through the cracks

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