A plea for space

Oh these dark mornings,
and the restless nights that precede them
The whirring of contemplation
lingering in my mind
Losing my footing, slipping my grip
I watch myself, watching you watching me

I see and I cannot pretend
I see that I cannot pretend,
my body will twitch my face will itch as I
as I
am unable to relax and be me
so I watch. Intently. And I hear my inner whispers
but I still try to contort reality
to fit with what I think I want
so I
don't listen
didn't listen
Did you hear?