I have a sense of longing,
Sits inside somewhere.
I feel as though I miss myself,
An odd one I'm aware.
I often feel this tension,
An urge to try my best.
Have to let it slip on by.
It hurts inside my chest.
This tender balance I must keep,
I'm painfully aware.
Can't lose myself in what I love,
Restriction's always there.
It feels like leaning backwards,
With nothing there to hold.
An active stance I do not want,
Sick of being controlled.
I'm full of drive and passions,
I miss them everyday.
Forced to shrink them down inside,
I have to stay away.
It goes against my nature,
Yea even after years.
Thought it might hurt less by now,
It simply reappears.
This need for more momentum,
To squeeze the juice from life.
Instead I am spectator,
I feel it twist the knife.
Somewhere in a parallel,
I'm more myself I feel.
Saying yes to what I want,
My hands are on the wheel.
Instead I sit here and say no,
Tell myself not yet.
Somewhere else I am full colour,
Here I'm silhouette.
