The Blowout

The workman couldn’t remember

Just where he put the hammer

He looked inside his toolbox

But could only find a spanner

The wrench was rather clumsy

And the workman whacked his thumb

He went to find the first aid kit

The pain he hoped to numb

He couldn’t find the medicine

So he went to the freezer

But couldn’t find the ice cube tray

To pack the throbbing bleeder

He opened up the closet door

To find some pain relief

But cluttered contents fell on him

In seeming endless grief

The unkempt psyche

Likewise causes similar despair

A shell game in the mind

Shifting emotions ‘round impair

Wires get crossed and we misplace

The cause from the effect

Then like a pack rat hide our feeling

Deep beneath neglect

Then some poor soul opens the door

And everything spills out

Yet most will shove things back inside

Until the next blow out