Feeling

On this I am somewhat disturbed,
About what might be, what has occurred.

Pulling on strings of the heart.
Tearing my clarity apart.

Why does this so bother me?
That which was, that which will be?

The bother contradicts my way.
To not let such things have a sway.

Why is it so different now?
That such feelings are allowed?

Back then I cast feelings aside.
Maybe that’s it, maybe that’s why.

But here it seems I missed the choice.
And so, feelings were given voice.

Voice that drowns my thoughts away.
Or doesn’t give it too much say.

What can I do with this feeling?
Be a victim of its reeling?

Looking into an abyss.
It feels like I have been remissed.

Embarking on investigation.
With myself in conversation.

Speaking true and openly.
To find some answers hopefully.

The feelings want to be felt.
These are the cards I have been dealt.

Because I am a feeling creature.
Not as a bug, but as a feature.

Yet I don’t often feel this way.
What does that mean, what does that say?

That I deny humanity?
To maintain some sanity?

But what when my poise is lost?
How great then will be the cost?

There she runs down the path.
Patterned by an unseen math.

The math that never was my thing.
Yet thereby my noise does sing.

And tears well from the sides.
And taketh me another ride.