I do not live,
Or believe,
In intense life.
I wish not to pound,
The days harder than oughted.
I love and live,
In passive acquiescence.
And, that –
That helps to ease,
Into the days I dread.

Yet, I overthink
And contemplate everything.
Wondering if it was intended
Or coincided.
Was it unconnected,
Or all unified?

Yes, I’m conflicted.
For the wars in my head,
Are unyielding.
Only thriving,
To invade my soul,
And devour me whole.