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.
