As I give thought to my grudges
And my anger has authority,
I smile with an tiny smirk ,
And listen to the people around me.
After I hear words better than mine,
I nod my head,
I stand up,
Strip,
And I talk shenanigans.
This is how I hide
Who I really
Am.

Overall, I'm a tornado.
I'm a mix of anger and jokes.
Once the towns are torn apart
All my loved ones are sitting and crying.
They lost their own,
My own is what causes my crisis.
I'd rather be a stupid fool than
The angry person I was born as.

Down the overpass I walk alone there is a bridge.
Bridges are meant to hold and let go.
There is a lighted highway underneath.
It's night so no one can see me do this.
Stepping up is the hardest step.
I'm shaking all over my hands still try to hold the rings of the iron gate.

I can't live this way.
It's my head versus me against everyone's perfection.
The night is ending, I see the sun peeking in its tough sky.
Fine, I'll let go of the rings and step down.
My feet are back on the ground and behind me a strangers car approached.
He gets out and comes to ask if I'm ok.
I nod, stand on my ground,
This time I don't strip.
I say I'm going to be ok I just needed a minute to myself.

Is that all I need to do with those around me?
Are the jokes really not necessary?
Which way am I being myself?
I'll have to live in order to learn that.
And the others,
Maybe there is no perfection.