Can I tell you how I truly feel? Sorry miss I would like to tell you. That's the one thing in life I can't let you, the world know. My eyes strain to keep my secrets, and my body begins to tense. Your eyes seem so bright so glossy and true blue; your body seems so smooth that the wrinkles of life come undone. Perfection is the example used to show what others need to do. While someone goes to after hours on how to improve. Taking up the time of the universe, slowly suffocating the world of it's own oxygen, striking down each tree with their simplicity. Take an idea and run with it. My eyes strain to keep my secrets; I tell them to shush, and praise them to keep them quiet. My body begins to tense and I squeeze it to keep it together. Your eyes, I don't want to waste your time. Your body should belong somewhere else. you're the example I praise, while I try to hang my own hat.
It gets harder and harder to write the next poem, the next poem, and my own adequateness. I strive to help people, while somewhere else is crumbling.