And because I'm the English teacher, there is always the poetry...
Snakes in my head
Slithering like the hush of hidden things
Things that go bump in the night.
I can't shake the feeling that I'm spinning in circles
Slowly crumbling beneath the burden
Of things I can't let go.
Things that can't be said.
Things that are left undone.
I see your face.
Crushed under the weight of my unmet expectations.
Eye sockets blank and swollen with sorrow.
And I wonder.
What would the other path in the yellow wood have looked like?