now I feel the guilt
of my 20,000 faces

fighting in everybody’s corner
I never really take a side
but work for and against each one
just as much
or
more

every time I’m asked for sympathy
I can only come back with a hollow
“yeah… sure.”

do they notice?
do they know?
do they hate me,
secretly,
as whispers
traveling through all ears
but mine?

so few,
(if any)
know this deep,
dark,
terrible,
horrible,
character-destroying,
world-shatt­ering,
locked up,
and bursting
fact of my
life

yet here I go
sharing it with
the world

I straighten up now

I will not hide this poem,
not like some,
I am not ashamed

there is truth in confession.

but to all,
not to
some.