Needle In A Hay Stack Poem by Malory Joyce

Just a girl looking for her own piece of mind,
but piled underneath other opinions.
The heavier the pile, the weaker I become,
and I am just a needle in a hay stack.

I feel bridled and I feel lost.
Here underneath hay,
I become close with darkness,
as I shall lay.

The days grow so long and so weary,
as I am searching for that pinch of light,
to shine down upon me some hope,
that my thoughts soon be brought bright.

And so they shall pile,
as darkness and I just lay,
for all that I am now is
a needle in a stack of hay.