Brain as playground
Some days are like monkey bars. You're swinging, reaching from one stable sturdy bar to the next Legs flailing Arms aching Struggling to hold on till you reach the end And then you can drop. Some days are a carousel Dizzying. Round and round And round again. Jumping off is hard. Some days are a see-saw. Shooting high And then bumping to the ground in a matter of seconds Someone's on the other side, balancing you, watching, helping But everything hurts when you get off. Some days are swings Pushing off against the ground until you're flying out so far you feel you could just let go of the chains and disappear And then suddenly shooting backwards But hey. At least you're flying.









