Puffy Eyes

Wondering and amazed, with so much to say,

my eyes are puffy, heavy with the weight of the day.

I don’t really have the words that fit

the way these feelings land and sit.

The things I feel—

they’re painfully real.

There’s a deep cry within

that begs to be heard and understood.

But how does one properly convey

all that’s aching to be said today?

Some would say, “Stay quiet.”

Others say, “Start the riot.”

I’d say:

begin with self-reflection,

open understanding,

a willingness to see

what’s actually holding you in.

So far in that it feels

like a corset is strapped to your ribcage,

and you’re just waiting

for someone to unhook it

and finally release the rage.

How does one fully express

all this mess

that lives so far down

it’s hard to bring it up

and give it sound?

There is, deep within,

a dwelling place that feels safe when you look in.

And if you really saw her,

you’d find a girl—

just a girl—

who wants to be chosen and heard,

terrified of being misunderstood.

Today was powerful and messy.

It might have been easier

to stay buried in my sheets,

hiding from the world.

I feel misunderstood—

heard, but not fully seen.

There’s a heaviness on the day

and, maybe,

that’s really all there is to say.