The Face Of My Soul: Mind Leakage

I am sitting not out of calm, but because standing no longer served a purpose. My body is here, heavy and obedient, but my head is a battlefield where voices, memories, and thoughts that were never spoken collide, searching for an escape. What bursts outward from me is not hair, not light it is the trace of thought; the wound of a mind that can no longer contain itself. The background is blue, not as a symbol of peace, but as vast as the void that remains after emotion has been worn down. The chair beneath me resembles power, yet the truth is, I am only waiting waiting for this silent mass to end. If you look closely, you will see that I have not collapsed; I am simply spilling out of myself.