Inside an Introvert

Everything has a story,

the who, what, why and where.

I spend my life journaling

and watching them, over there.

Our stories come through music,

through books and on the screen,

they make us laugh out loud

and sometimes even scream.

I’m trying to find my story

but I’ve been locked away by time

I never really grew up

so there’s nothing on this line.

These hazel eyes feel empty,

the tears I’v been holding back

what’s the use in crying?

I don’t know how to react.

Who is this blank person,

glaring back at me?

Is there anything inside her?

I find, I can’t breathe.

I drive the road, unchartered

my past clings to the mirror

I don’t know what is out there

I can’t see what’s in my future.

I see the tree’s sparkle,

and there I find my peace

Crackling bacon and laughter

snug in a winter fleece.

I tell myself I don’t need them

I’m happy driving alone

but all my dreams include them

I think of them as home.

How do I break down this wall?

How do I engage?

I just want to wake up.

I want to be on their page.

This soliloquy could be endless

I could write from dawn to dusk

But the world is outside waiting,

and I have to try, I must.

Poem for Mental Health Week

Inspired by Mental Health Week that is sweeping across Australia.

Empty

like a glass of wine

on a Friday night

spinning happily

wonderland

spices and chilli

stings shivering nerves

casacade of goosebumps

the real world screams

from all directions

piano keys at her temples

bass at her heart

eyes like lead

oh, a paper-weight of a head

Downton’s Daisy, is

devilishly clever

a marionette under the wrong master

she doesn’t know what to do

society says she will not do

in her family tree of servitude.

That story stops there

hack and halve and hack again

dreams submerge reality

or is the other way around?

She is tired.

She is empty.

She breaks her down

to build her up.

She is the builder.