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Holding Patterns (A. Fields)

 


My prison can’t be seen 

‘cause it’s a part of me. 

No doors hold the key 

to being a better me. 


Patterns hold me. 


This puzzle’s incomplete, 

missing a center piece. 

I try to deal with this 

by steeling my mind 


in a holding pattern. 


You see, I’m consumed by these 

moments of stress 

helplessly needing to 

do things again. 


Over and over and 

over and over. 

Over and over and 

over and over again… 


A pattern holds me. 


It’s not like want or need, 

more like I’m on repeat 

and I can’t do anything 

until I get this done. 



 

I saw you earlier today 

and you said that I looked great. 

It’s not as easy as it seems 

being what I’m supposed to be. 


You’re not close enough to see 

what your words have done to me. 


I give in. 

I can’t win. 

not again, 

I give in… 



I can hardly breathe 

if I don’t count to three. 

If I miss a beat, 

I have to start again. 


Patterns hold me. 


This prison can’t be seen 

‘cause it’s a part of me. 

A puzzle, incomplete, 

trying for some peace 


in patterns. Hold me. 


You see, I’m confused by these 

moments of stress 

hopelessly needing to 

do things again. 


Over and over and 

over and over. 

Over and over and 

over and over again.

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