Break Loose Poem by Ayn Timmerman

I am stuck in a daily circle,
a routine that limits my
energy since I am a part of
a cycle conforming to
everything I stand against
the wall and follow orders
allowing a single bullet to
explode in my forehead
in the place where ideas are
spawned, flowing downwards
through my neck, my chest,
my arms, and out the
pen or brush or whatever
is used to express these
explosions and their aftermath
that plagues me, ideas and
visions worthy of bragging about
around the water cooler, but
most I will keep to myself
to enjoy again at a later
date when hopefully I find
a way to shear through the
circle and break loose.