I am a worry

that I do not worry

enough

or maybe

too much.

I am filled with fear…

that I live too little,

too much;

not at all?

how do you be

what you need to be

in a box out of reach

and buried in my own

stony chest?

these are thoughts

in mere fleeting moments

that run on repeat

and they would spark some movement

if not for the entropy

of my heart.