My thoughts, in this moment, are scattered. 

I am thinking about the patterns—

different patterns of different leaves

that are growing on various shrubs and trees.

 

I am thinking of the cycles—

some that I am currently revolving in

and some that I have been living

which have been mostly repeating.

 

I am thinking about the habits that I formed

and those to which I try to conform,

about some suppressed internal storm,

of breaking the familial norm. 

 

I am trying to churn out the veracity 

among many things said by the members of my family

which are mostly filled with toxicity

spread through generations with subtlety.

 

I am dealing with an underlying stress.

Right now, I am a mess

with fear, uncertainty and thoughts all scattered 

deciphering what does and what really mattered. 

 

Scattered

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