I. Crushed

I’d be lying if I said I felt straightforward right now, 

Still, I feel like my lunch’s tinfoil cover, bent out of shape, 

Trying to swim through invisible oceans, a small vow

To help pay the price of a tedious future landscape. 

II. Kicked

I see my experience, blinked twice, a grand showmanship, 

In strife, but I’m slightly more inclined, to see a toy truth, 

As it shapes my mind, a quick fib, because a moment in

I’ll wake up and still be stuck, something I’ll someday soothe. 

III. Canned

These days, my ideas, seemed to be kept in a large jar

On the top rightmost shelf in my cupboard, interesting,  

Because I think I am sickening, so a clear-cut scar

In strength, as well as a reminder to be listening.