A Stressed Repression

Laying on his face, piercing eyes and a frown,
Trying hard to get his feet off the ground,
Marks on his face of the no sleeper,
His thoughts get deeper,
But his mind keeps spinning around
Pointless events and occurrences,
Things that remind him of how much worse he is,
When his head isn’t focused.

So many assaults on his thoughts,
He locks himself in his own prison
Of concentrated depression,
All stored somewhere behind his forehead,
A subconscious enough for four heads,
And he keeps putting all the stress
Somewhere behind his chest,
Able to push down but sometimes not back up
The things he keeps in his mind.

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