My mind is a pomegranate,
bursting with seeds I never planted—
each one a thought,
tight, bitter, impossible to swallow.

Like a scarf wrapped wrong,
knotted at the throat,
I try to pull free,
but the threads just tighten.

I walk in worn-out shoes,
circling the same fears,
the soles whispering
questions with no answers.

Inside, I’m an apple gone wrong—
shiny on the outside,
but something has crept in,
eating me quietly.

Even my coat feels too heavy,
made for winters
my body no longer lives in.
I sweat beneath burdens
that no one else can see.

The clock is broken.
Time loops like knotted headphones,
useless, tangled,
refusing to play a peaceful song.

My chest is an echoing cave
where every "what if"
bounces back louder,
a scream made of silence.

And still I try
to peel myself open like an orange,
hoping to find the core,
but it’s just more layers;
just more skin.

The sea outside is calm.
But the one in me rages,
a storm with no shore;
no sail,
just waves that ask me
why I can’t let go.