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
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