I seem to feel the most,
yet keep it bottled up inside.
I think I've learned to conceal it well,
My heart has grown a stronger hide.
A leather pouch holding words within,
that wouldn't dare reach my lips.
I won't leave my language bare,
and let the secrets drip.
I have learned to bite my tongue,
when I think feeling's enough.
I'll let the bottle in my brain,
sit; collecting dust.
It's much safer than using it often,
vulnerable; it's too loud.
Waiting until I'm alone,
drinking death as I had vowed.
At that point, I'll rip off the top,
and consume what's in my mind.
So in the day of passing faces,
it'll handle being confined.
For now you may think I'm inhumane,
why keep emotion in these glasses?
Well, all I feel has been limited,
and today I've had my ration-

~

I am
Unpoetic, for
Isolation built from self-paved
Solitude has wilted my writing's
Possibility for sweetness
And sugar-faked beauty,
But poetry is crazed
For a taste of
Vast feelings,
So here
I am-

~