Back And Forth Poem by shondarayan jarhel

i do at times, in weakened states, just sit alone in looping thought with knees to chest and rock.
perhaps the sway of panics wave?
if fear was posed and sculpted, would this be what its maker marks or is this still but a lump of clay just waiting for its form? ..
its not a means to place of comfort as its never brought me there, as gallows rope or trusted hand around my neck may well, and has, and will in end no doubt,
so why then this?
this back and forth? ..
it doesnt bring me anywhere but deeper down in ditch...
digging into dirt and rock,
i rock 'till light cant hit