Cage

sometimes i dont know
i dont know how to deal with my own thoughts.
they prowl and snarl, throwing themselves against the bars of the cage.
it keeps going and going no release.
untill it gets crowded and crowded
and so
so unbearably loud.
they begin to die,
untill all thats left is a few sad thoughts
trying in vain, desperate to escape.

then the process reignites
more and more and more appear
drowning out the world with a cacophony of pleading sounds
asking painfully to open the gate
and allow them freedom to the world
but the thing is
the thing is
i dont have the key
or a crowbar
or anything of any usefulness
but when i write
write rhymes prose poems and others
it opens a small door
they
the thoughts
cry out in joy and jump headfirst into the world
maybe not with a rawr
maybe just with a peep
but its enough to quiet the raucous polyphony of desperate pleas and woes
so with that i thank the world
for allowing my thoughts to roam
and allowing me to breath