Present Time, Present Moment Present Scenario Poem by A Michelle Smith

Sitting here listening to old country lyrics
trying to write my own words as if someone may hear it
trying to shout out with a voice so loud
to put the pen to paper to say what I can't out loud
-expression is the method at which I am failing at right now
so mixed up I forget how my own words sound
thoughts scrambled up I can't think straight
not much left to inspire me anymore
more silent then I was before

Something has to be better than this
than looking for the signs that I did miss
not in a place where I recognize me
caged in, edited so that I can't be seen
reflection on a mirror of shattered glass
steady trying to die and out run my past

Silence is my peace but at the same time my torment
it's the echo of bits of methat I once tried to forget
-foreign to my own self
unable to establish what's fake and what is real
self perception is supposed to be the beauty of me
but when you can't even hear what's in you
-what does that even matter?
when it all caves in who do you call out to
when everyone wants you to be everything but yourself

Sitting here listening to old country lyrics trying to write my own as if someone may hear it