I have visions of myself letting go,
dropping my persona, screaming
and unleashing thunder.

Then it rains from my eyes.
The storms of my insides explode,
a hurricane of emotions
unapologetically take control of me.

I am no longer suppressed by secrecy,
no longer forced to act based on duty.
No, in this vision, I allow for vulnerability.

I am an animal, a tired, so very tired animal,
tortured and tattooed by agony,
marred by melancholy.

This is me

Not my persona,
not the lies,
not the masks.

I am uncontrollable,
pent up frustration,
storms that rain dread,
an ominous loom
of darkness and gloom.

Nothing good escapes me
as I lose control of myself.
Tears and blood trail the
paths I have burnt to ashes.

Anger and sadness intermingle
as I begin my crooked dance.
My feet do not feel the ground
as I leap from my persona
and unleash my thunder.

My hands move erratically,
as if possessed with a sudden electricity.
I am no longer human.

But in this vision, so disturbing,
so grotesque,
there lies an unequivocal truth.

In this vision, so broken and dissonant,
that is where I can be found.

That is where all the honesty,
no longer drowns under an ugly
metal mask that I use,
parading as something contrary to
myself.