Reach out a hand to me

Because I go home,
Sobbing.

I'm surrounded by people
Making small talk
They only see the surface of me
That's all they ever really care to see

My pain makes me write beautiful words
And when I paint it's like I'm dipping my paintbrushes in the very blood that runs through my veins--
A kaleidoscope of color
Runs down my canvas

But all I want to do is purge this pain,
Heal this wound
Even if it is the catalyst to my creation

I'm so tired of feeling lonely
Being an onlooker to people sharing smiles

When people ask me about myself
It just makes me feel like I'm a loser
Why do you ask me what I do?
What I do for work doesn't define me
Instead, ask me what I love

Am I too cynical?
Have my life experiences ****** me
To the fringes of society?
I smile
But my smile is merely an attempt to hide the tempest deep within me
I laugh,
But silently
My soul screams

Reach out your hand to me,
Don't turn away
To ignore my pain
That leaks through the creases of my face
I need someone to help me
But there is no one
And there will never be anyone to rescue me

I reach out my hand
And press my palm to the mirror
I look into my eyes and say:
"I'm here for you."