I have the kind of peers who pressure me
to write my poems in forms like this dizain.
It’s time to take a break from therapy.
Feeling too much too fast makes me insane.
I have some memories I can’t explain.
I need to write some songs that I can’t sing.
I’m like a buzzing bee that wants to sting
someone, something. I know that I will die
after my stinger’s gone. Changes nothing.
Like Icarus, I only want to fly.