Inside

Nothing sends my heart into a knot
like the thought of creating art
So many ideas and ideals to deal with
Clashing in my brain like knights on the quest for that tin cup
I think of words and poems that I might write or right (depending on the topic)
But all I can do is sigh
And hold it all in because I fear letting some out
Might open the floodgates and what will I do when it all comes crashing out
Hopelessly in some maniacal manner
That I wouldn’t be able to explain
Much less bear to look at
What would be left but questions and curious expressions
From the ones who see it

I feel that I have a thousand occupations, projects, innovations and inventions
inside
All offering the possibility and probability of success
But maybe that’s what really scares me

And on the inside I have so much creativity
So many swirling colors, concepts and thoughts
That I keep a tight lid on
From the outside I appear bleak and quiet
From the outside I appear acceptably normal
And probably even lacking in expression

Inside the crazy, bluesy musicians sing me a tune that sometimes
Makes me want to sing along
Hum a few bars