My mind hurts and it hurls and it squeezes and it shuts and it floods and it floats yet it sinks and and yet and yet and yet and yet,

This is my mind,

This is my brain,

This is the hall where I must scream to silence,

This is where the shelves are tall,

Towering like the fear that shudders when I am near and when it is near I,

This is where my memories quiver,

Threatened with being forgotten.

It is beautiful.

I am grateful.

The gift it is, that I can forget my memories.

I can’t remember my birthdays,

Nor my past mistakes, oh well those I do.

Nor more and more of my pain.

But that pain still left a scar.

So when I forget and let go and it lets go of me as if in a beautifully directed film,

I cry myself to sleep.