There's nothing that
breaks me more than the
things I think and the words
I allow to slip from my brain to
my tounge.

A war rages on and on
inside my mind, but I'm afraid
to share it with anyone but those
who are forced to keep it a secret.
But does it really help?

Apathy. Indifference. Unaffected.
That's not me. Not a single part of
that is in my blood. My brain forces
it into my heart until I swell up and
break down into embarrassing pieces.

I'm tired. Tired of the faux thoughts
and the restless nights and the stomach
pangs and aches that remind me of the
crashing emotional waves that roar inside.

I determine who I am. I determine what I ought to be. I matter, God ******. If everyone else can see it, why can't I?