A long journey home,
Trapped in the backseat.
A padded room.

I open my eyes.
And for a moment,
Everything is in blue.

The world shakes,
Distorts. Reality is thrown
Into various shades.

And suddenly,
You're splashing your face.
Wondering if what you saw was truly real.

I try to escape this realm,
Throw my heart into another.
But I never see it again.

I am forever trapped in this mind.

Don't worry about
Me committing suicide;
I won't follow through.

Even now,
I don't know who I am.
Who I want to be.

I am afraid to look at myself
In the mirror,
And find a monster staring back.

I always seem to find that shadow,
Even on the most calm,
Sunny days.

I end up crying alone,
In the dark,
Hoping for sleep to come.

Although it never does.

I want to be good enough
To not need to pretend
That I can find "the one".

Because they don't exist.
And I know that.
But I still cling to that hope.

One of these days,
I hope I can learn
To love myself.

Take off your mask,
Piece by piece,
Until it all fades away.

Reveal your bleary eyes,
Crying in frustration,
From long, sleepless nights.

Show me your red lips,
That smile at the sun,
Which utter such sweet nothings.

Wear your scars,
From the dancing and mayhem,
Your sweet childhood friends.

Set your hair loose,
Your means for inspiration,
The beginning of so many poems.

And finally,
Show me your true self,
So you may become a reflection I recognize.

Enter; the woman,
Her skin covered in words,
Searching for new language.

She seeks more,
To fill in the voids of her skin,
Left by so many forgotten lovers.

Abandoned by love,
She seeks refuge
In the distant memories.

She has long forgotten
Who she was,
And who she was planning to be.

She looks for new words
To fill the emptiness in her heart,
And the longing in her soul.

And now, her skin
Is another blank canvas
For others to paint their thoughts on.

My life closed shut,
Never to be open again.

I faded away,
Grateful.

That I had chosen clarity of mind
Over clarity of vision.

Even if they both intertwine.

I freed myself,
And can soar high above.

And far away.

My fingertips ready to type,
Electricity coursing through them.
Yet the words still don't come.

The end is a beginning,
I suppose. But this time,
It's the other way 'round.

If I were asked,
My medium of choice
Would be language.

So unclear,
Yet so certain,
They fail me now.

I see such beauty I cannot describe,
Such chaos I cannot portray,
Such anger I cannot express.

But my fingers remain poised,
Waiting for that moment...

When they are able to type.