Some people know peace,
Know calm,
Call it home,
Cherish the inside of their heads,
Call them serene, familiar.

I awake to misery stuck in this dungeon of doubt and anxiety,
This brain exists, a prison holding my discernment captive,
This dark furnace pulls me back to solitude,
Alive, but barely breathing,

Some people know calm,
How to decide and be steadfast,
How to be appreciated, not hidden behind the shadows,
Some people carry themselves with confidence and poise,
While others’ brains work on autopilot,
Some people know the flexibility of choice,
When to stop,

While some people are still learning how to start…