In My Head

An itch that won’t be fixed A need that I can’t feed Desire to feel the fire But cold and growing old It seems, I won’t be pleased A contradicting task My feening won’t be eased I’m starting to truly grasp I study the grass on the other side Blinded from the green of my own I orchestrate, yet another drive Further away from home Repeatedly packing To escape inner lacking Has proven to others I am over reacting Each time I run farther But it only gets harder To embrace my modest purpose As an idea starter