The Little Stream That

The little stream that dances at my foot,

I want to move closer to it's embrace,

Yet my flaws keep me in this cave,

Of constant overthink and savage torture,

Is it better on the other side?

Or I've lost all sense of conscious,

To know what's right and wrong in this,

To live and hate with the same intensity,

Daring and fearing in my mind,

Can I move out of this place?

Of my own might and not dragged away,

A dead corpse with a beating heart,

Never experienced but always yapping.