I feel rather too many knots in my stomach,
Tied ridiculously tightly into a solid,
That’s unable to move, that can’t be replaced.
The knots tied in a way that they can ever be undone,
Causing heavy commotions- are definitely
Intensifying the beats of hearts and count of the breaths lesser.
The knots, in the shape of bubbles,
That grow bigger in size,
Never bursting rather staying as a burden.
Heavy solid, that my soul endures and, heart grumbles about,
Ought to be melted at least,
To a soft cotton ball to keep things light and white.
Cotton ball that can fly far away,
Keeping the place void,
To be filled with something soothing and blissful.
Can you help me go through this?
Can you take me past this?
Can you wing my way with me to cross this?