Focus

My brain, the birdcage.
Brimming with butterflies.
Thoughts come and go
without a proper door
to make them mine.
So if something shines,
I’ll take the time
to stop this train dead in its tracks,
and pave a path past
past threads of my mind.
I’m not one for steering or focus.
See, my hamster wheel reels on what broke us.
Torrential tears, and fears formed from no trust.
Each moment so near,
and yet unclear
before us.