Poetic Turmoil

Poetry - ’Poetic Turmoil’
There are moments
When in a crowded room
That silence can deafen one's thoughts.
Is it a need or disease
For paper and pen - to express.
Ideas flow to paper
Only to draw blank expression.
Is it true that some fear failure
More than death itself?
Over and over the same thoughts
Echo in my mind.
Weary from the noise
There are days one would think
Insanity shortly around the corner.
Yet no escape comes,
Only silent confusion.
Imagination of the soul,
Filled with such turmoil.
Never able to begin
Begun, unable to fully comprehend
Starting never ending.
Reaching far beyond inner obstacles.
Late and the body cries out for rest.
If only to sleep another dream.
Till the right words,
Find pen to paper.

c '96