too much

he sits by the pool
notebook balanced on his knee
pen in hand and lost in thought
unaware what he is feedin these pages

his nature fills these words
not with madness and genius
but with the quiet moments after his storms
when he's searchin for himself

his fingers find melodies no one else knows
playin what dictates his soul
no sheet music to guide him
just raw feelin translated in song

a look in his eyes like he’s burnin alive
speaks of not belongin to this place
in his alienation
there’s a truth that emerges

darker hours come
when rage erupts without warnin
fists clenched against invisible enemies
voice raised against unheard accusations

the multiple day silences
empty spaces where bottles once stood
bitter words spat in moments of drownin
before collapsin into hollow apologies

his mischievous grin appears less often now
stubborn stance more defensive than strong
but in unguarded moments
he offers a gentler touch

mind spinnin on tangents
disappearin mid conversation
travelin some place internal
before returnin with haunted eyes

he slides thru mistakes
pivotin, turnin. adaptin
as if errors were always the intention
a grace found in those use to failure

sometimes it’s all too much
the weight of expectations pressin down
the silent battles no one witnesses
the 3 year coin tucked daily into his pocket

his soul speaks in language with no translation
never seein himself reflected in these lines
never knowin where he translates to art
servin as unwittin muse