I'm not sure if it's a blessing or a curse; my way with words. But it does come at a cost. For I am burdened with the ability to capture my pain in a beautiful portrait.  My broken heart my quill and my never ending tears my ink. And no matter how fluidly the words of my despair run I will never feel it in such a way. Hopeless and helpless. In dire need of an escape from everything. But a deep yearning to go back to where it all began. And if I were to use every word I knew I still wouldn't be able to convey to you how so desperately  I want to claw out of my skin. Escape from my own mind. But I'm trapped in every sense of the word. And I'm trapped between everything, wanting someone to save me or wanting to do it on my own. My ego so large believes I can do it alone, but it hasn't worked thus far. Still I can't reach out. For fear of misunderstanding because that's my life one after another. When I truly say everything I feel, let it all out... What will they say?