I Confess Poem by Edwina Reizer

I confess all the things I’ve thought about
have filled my head too much.
It’s taken a toll on the rest of me
and I wonder if others can see
that I need a crutch
to help me when I cannot find
any possible way to quiet my mind?

What purpose? What importance can there be
to dwell on each and every thought?
Surely there has to be more to life
than troubled times and strife.
Can anyone ever know
that my confession that I give at night
has never obliterated you from my sight?