bottled up my mind -

‘gone fishing’ with hindsight.

in the sea of memories and failures -

found what floated with a note crammed in it.

it read:

“thoughts like anchors dropped heading to the muddy banks

to get a grip on chaos as laid out with my own hands”.

self-consciousness a lethal trap -

self-confidence a lethal weapon.

pathetic? worn-out? lost?

naw, just too strained of a self.

a self. not the self.