I've been masking for so long
that I forget
that's what I'm doing

sometimes I can play a role

but mostly I just mask as
'human'

I pretend that I am swimming
no one wants to see me drowning

no one wants to hear about
how hard it is to be around them

I find out what they can handle
of my real identity

show that much personality
so masking takes less energy

but sometimes I still find me hoping
I could lay my soul wide open

maybe you can be the place
where it is safe to have a face

I try too hard to hide the way
I struggle with this every day

they cannot see
what holds me back
because these walls
are made of glass

they think that I
am holding back

I try to use my logic
to put their anger into perspective

but sometimes I can't

I'm sorry I am not enough

sometimes I try to explain
the ways I try
that they can't see

I try
but I find out which friends
pretend they can feel empathy

sometimes that's been a shock for me

but maybe I know how they feel
I pretend that I can do
the things people expect me to

is that the way it feels for you?
is that the reason you pretend?

do you try to feel empathy?
are you ashamed because you can't?

if that's not something you can do
then I should not expect you to

I've seen what you're capable of

I'm sorry it was not enough

sometimes when I am under stress
it's not enough to do my best

and I distract myself from that
act like I can take back that fact

in fact I undermine my efforts
just to make myself feel better

always around people
because I can't feel when we're together

I'm out late
I'm with my friends

I'm tired of them
but I pretend

it's better than what's in my head
I burn the candle at both ends

I burn myself with limerence
and my mindlessness shines in a
bright line of afterimages

dead echoes of this emptiness

every day I judge myself
too this, too that
not good enough

but I know
I am not impartial
I'm not qualified to judge

but if not me, then who?
since I'm the only one that I can't lie to
if I'm honest
that is just another layer of denial

and who gave me this idea
that I should be judged by people?
people judging people
people who invented good and evil

or is that older than us?
animals know who they love
I think they understand blame
I think they understand shame

we give it more than a name
we give it so much power
sometimes we give it everything
and we are given
in exchange

someone to name
someone to blame
someone to hurt
someone to shame

an echo chamber full of hate
a broken mirror in a frame

I guess I am afraid
that if I treat myself
with more respect
the mob will turn on me
with one voice

"HOW DARE YOU FORGIVE YOURSELF?"

as if they care about me
right?
they must have bigger fish to fry
some people set the world on fire
some people commit genocide

so what would really happen
if one day I just stopped judging me
telling me I'm too this, too that, not good enough
and let me be

and build a real alliance with myself
built on trust
built on love

don't need to be
better than me

good enough is good enough

.

there is a place inside where I hide my desire
power                                                my rage
can I admit                                  I am the one
who put myself          L           inside this cage
sometimes I see          E        the world outside
as through the glass    T             as from within
but other times                                I am aware
that I am outside         M                    staring in
at this creature             E       who dares to want
to stand her ground            and make demands
her eyes say                O      I will bring a storm
and turn this glass       U             back into sand
and I can feel it            T                    in my soul
I do not know                                how to react
I am afraid                                     to look away
I cannot turn my back on that

just a pawn
changed my fate with five small steps
I am something else

when our number's up
we go where souls find slumber
in a run-on run of none and not and nothing

where the sky is broad and high
and deep and humbling
where the tumbleweeds
come dumb and drunk and stumbling

and the pick-up trucks are rusted
done and dusted
in the dusty sun
that stuns dunes and drumlins

stone strewn with rubble
some forgotten struggle
where the temples have crumbled
and the gods have been humbled

wind grumbles and mumbles
like some drunken slumlord
at the gutter rats that huddle
in his muddled penumbra

and the threads that time is woven of
are tangled and jumbled
like vines in a jungle
and rhyme and reason teeter and tumble

and the stunning starry sky
falls down and stumbles
lays a stone on the tomb
of the lost and forgotten

when our blood is dust
no us and no other

no struggle
no trouble

just a lot of nothing