Pop Can
Like a can of pop overflowing,
Pent up emotions in me overtaking,
Old feelings saturating the newest feeling,
Afraid of when the table will start turning.
Like the cola soda covering
A table in which I am patiently waiting,
I am as usual finding my feelings confusing,
This metaphor is staining my well-being.
Like the cold hard thin metal lining,
I am lost again in my own mindscaping,
Chill to the core despite my inner shining,
Thanks to the sacred herb I was smoking.
Like my favourite drinks I'm always drinking,
Always recycling every thought and feeling,
Just so I can avoid telling everything,
Yet still hoping someone sees I need saving.
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