Sullen Poem by Joan Fontanilla Balmania

I'm freaking smart. I'm bloody clever. Because I did.
I did shut you out. You will never win. Because I'm cunning.
Counting the tablets. All seven of them.
Lined them up on a queue
Will this be enough?

Enough. When will everything be enough?
Is it when a daughter walks away from her mother after a heated fight?
Is it when a friend steals someone you love?
Is it when a partner cheats?
Is it when a son despises his father?
Is it the feeling of insecurity?
Is it when you are imprisoned by the things you hate doing?
Is it when you don't become what you want to be?
Is it when you don't have anything on the table?
Is it when you are totally ruined by your own thoughts?
Is it when someone important dies without you saying the things you want to say?

Thoughts. Ideas. I have lots of them. Rambling
So where will I start?
Write it all down like it needs to be written.
Find someone as sick and unsettled as I am and waste time speaking
This flight of notions.