Storm Inside

There's a tempest brewing in my chest,

A hurricane of what-ifs and why-nots,

Spinning faster than my racing thoughts

Can catch their breath.

Fear sits heavy as a stone

Lodged somewhere between my ribs,

While frustration claws at the walls

Of this cage I've built from doubts.

Every door I try to open

Slams shut with the weight

Of all the things I cannot control,

All the words I should have said.

The world keeps spinning

While I stand frozen,

Watching chances slip like sand

Through fingers I forgot how to close.

This anger burns without direction—

At myself, at time, at the cruel joke

Of wanting so much more

Than these small, shaking hands can hold.

I am tired of being afraid

Of my own shadow,

Tired of swallowing rage

Until it poisons every dream.

But still the storm rages,

Still the stone sits heavy,

And I am left wondering

When I became both the prisoner

And the guard.