My eyes look dark because I'm filled with compressed rage and malice bursting through the white meat. Inner peace is as distant as dreams from nights passed. I wonder if my face reflects my mentality. Are the fibers gripping my jaw wound as tight as my gaze? Static silence is air displaced by my throbbing mind, aching from head on collisions with reality. I'm not who I think I am . Rather I know who I am and I'm enraged that I'm not who I want to be.. Or maybe its the fact I've always been that person but my pond never reflected my image. I can see me now.