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.