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.