Poem: Too Much Going On

My mind’s a map with tangled roads,
A thousand thoughts in heavy loads,
The clock hands spin, the minutes bleed,
Each second shouts another need.

A text, a call, a blinking screen,
A list of things I’ve never seen—
Forgotten plans, a missed alarm,
A week of chaos in my palm.

The coffee’s cold, the laundry waits,
My dreams lean back behind the gates.
The news, the noise, the rising tide,
No quiet place where I can hide.

I breathe, but not too deep or slow,
There’s no such time—I have to go.
I wear my calm like borrowed skin,
Thin paper over storms within.

But still, beneath the swirling sound,
A part of me stays safe and sound—
A whisper low, a steady drum:
You’re not alone. The peace will come.

Thank-you for reading.

Much Love and Light,

Brenda Marie