Pulled.
Gotta get there.
You quicken your pace.
It starts with a thought,
Comes a feeling you chase.
Then you’re lookin’ for peace;
Relief from stress,
That you brought on yourself,
And I call this, a mess.
Confused by your story;
You-cannot just be.
Like you’re in your own way,
And don’t know what you see.
NOT FOR RANT 