tossing around. over and over.
I grab my clock
4:06 am
what now

I can't stop thinking
my mind is filled with confusion
confusion about love
about life, about me

who am i? i ask
why does my true personality have to be so unattainable
why does it have to be so absolutely true that not even I
not even my parents or friends will understand

I want to run to the root and tell the world who I am
no. i tell myself, its too late
**** it. i say, who cares now?
no one.

I grab my shoes and barbour and climb the stairs toward the gates of hell
the gates of freedom, of insubordination, of truth
with boiling blood oozing, seeping, crawling and consuming terrified souls

I grasp the thick walls that prevent me from the end
the coarse black paint rubs off onto me
I smear the charcoal onto my face
i yell. i cry. i scream.
but still, no one hears me.