Under Pressure

Under Pressure

The state of being seriously pressed,
Or maybe a thought that can’t be confessed?
We’re all influenced to a particular end,
So quick to clean up the mental mess.

Some acts we simply can’t defend;
The impact folds or the weight suspends.
But the tower can crash right off the chart,
And we have no choice but to ascend.

Underneath the thumb that contracts the heart,
are no fables, no mysteries, no works of art.
The surface on contact betrays our actions
But the lost mind will again retrieve its parts.

Call it a voice, a syllable, a look, or subtraction…
Or suppose it’s a simple chemical reaction?
Though, there is a point I will assume,
When we can chalk it up to the laws of attraction.

The day can be rebuilt with love and choice and words that bloom.
This pressure will not be the doom.
This pressure will not be the doom.

A.E. Edwards