There is a tickle in my head
that rambles on and on
about the things I'd done
once upon a time
and the dreams I've dreamt
that I cannot possibly do.

Sometimes I rub a little hope
like an herbal salve
atop of the curvature
of my pitter-pattering heart
to quiet the voices
whispering in my head.

But sometimes nothing works,
there is no solution,
no remedy to be had,
and the voice becomes a choir
a million pieces of thought
filling the harmony of my life.

And I am left trapped,
hostage to my own fears,
until I can find a way out again.