Dear Too Much,
I had to sit with you for a while.
Under my flesh you crawl, But I’m ready to brawl.
Too much trauma,
and
Too Much baggage
Or at least that is what I told myself.

Like a swirling vortex,
a tornado I cradle
I’ve held onto you like some sort of label.

Dear too much,
I had to sit with you a while,
just to figure you out.

Call by call, and talk by talk he fixes that.
Walk by walk I remember that,
If one that therapist can handle all “This” then someone else can too,
and maybe, just maybe, Too Much is actually just enough.

Dear Too Much,
You’re finally out of touch.