head hung low in the shower after a day without power,
hot streams of water meld with tears,
one cleansing, the other demoralizing, but combined are indiscernible.

fear is to abstract to express the response to the trials of the day,
clumped into the categories of emotions taught in the horrendous brick,
the trauma of being unknown, unloved, ignored and ridiculed is inexplicable.

mortification is more accurate,
mortified of being late,
mispeaking,
failing,
derailing.

what happens when one overflows?
succumbs to express feeling, express humanity?
bursting from pent-up anxiety?
mockery, for being weak, for being honest.

So I trudge day after day,
Say words I don’t mean,
Put on the facade of happiness,
Do my best to please, but always just annoying
Yet no matter what I do,
The resolution is the same,
Returning to the wretched shower.