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.