The rattling cages of the mind

A poem on our thoughts.

Waking up and wondering - which path shall I take?

There is constant struggle, a constant lamenting.

But what does it do?

Every single morning?

Does it allow me to grow,

or does it allow me to fail?

Is it supporting me,

or is it hunting me?

Is it giving me calmness,

or is it distracting me?

It is as if I would not know,

and my writings,

wanting to know,

and not getting to know.

It is a constant back and forth,

tight in the cage,

running errands,

and not finding a way out.

I never thought about the power of the mind,

The neurons firing in all directions,

all at once.

Saying loud and clear,

you can do whatever you want,

but the cage is real,

and the human being with scared eyes,

and distorted snap,

is grappling the sweaty bars,

ruttling the cages,

and screaming in pain.

There is no door yet created,

and the door seems wide open.

The head with felty orange wavy hair,

clinging in chaos,

and shaking wild,

and back and forth.

The body in pain,

wanting to get out,

pushing and screaming,

the head,

the head it not grasps,

“go out”,

it allows,

but holds back,

the bars in which it is.

Fear is raging,

and pain is suffocating,

it is real,

real in the mind,

and real in it’s body.

An image as real as it gets,

an image as excrutiating as it feels.

Let me go,

it loudly says.

Let me go,

and show me the door.

But there is no door,

not yet.