Pacing a track into the matted carpet
She was never a runner
But she's worn out a pair of tennis shoes and some slippers
And you can see her footprints traced out on the carpet
She tends to drag her feet when she walks
The heels of boots worn down to nibs
Soles cracked where the balls of her feet pirouetted across the rug
Trying to throw off her stress by becoming a whirlwind
Splattering her emotions on the walls
Can't can't can't
Can't can't
Can't
Even finish a sentence
It's all coming apart
She is crumbling defiance and denial
Hands full of cracked paper mâché masked portraits
Pacing with the remnants clutched around paper cuts
Till she sees night wind down towards day
She walks miles along carpeted highways
No exits or rest stops in sight
No mile markers to guide her
She doesn’t know her destination
She’s a hitchhiker with a thumb bent back
But no one stops for pirouetting-ballerina-carpet-hitchhikers near dawn
Her fingers tangle themselves in her hair to keep her head grounded
She curves her spine to the floor
Tries to lie and breathe quiet
1, inhale 2, exhale 3, gasp 10!
Come out come out wherever you are
Olly olly oxen free to every feeling she squashed down
They like to suddenly magnify
She’s still learning to play games of tag
And hide n’ seek with her emotions late at night
It's painful to learn how to listen to herself
When reason often deserts her battered mindscape
But instead of skidding across reflective markers and lane dividers
She lifts sock-wrapped peddle feet
From the metal accelerator she wove into the rugs beneath her,
Shifting her pacing into a leisurely drive
Pulling herself over to stop for a few moments
She hugs her breath, holds her chest in tight
And witnesses another moon fade, another sun rise