It is all too much.
Sometimes I want to pick up pack up flee
Yet I am paralyzed,
Confined in a shell that represents who I should be
(could, would, but never will)
The thoughts never stay dormant for long
The cockroaches in my brain start the process
Then the ants in my veins frantically run from my heart to my lungs to my every inch  
My tendons turn to barb wire; nothing is comfortable
But my smile remains, it must remain
For my smile keeps the shouts from escaping