Just slept another
day away,

Forgot to see the
sun rise.

Thought it was
nightfall,

But I guess
I was mistaken
this time.

Got out the wrong
side of the bed,

Put on my
disguise, again.

No one likes
a sad man,

Otherwise,
What’s to say
I’m fine?

Time seems to
pass everyone by

And I wish it
would speed up
in this lifetime.

But the hands
on the clock,

Only moves so far,
just like the sands
in the hourglass
of time.

Just slept another
day away,

Watched the sun,
Come creeping up,

Wore the face of
grief, and regret
under forced
smiles and alibis.

No one likes a sad man.

Why even try?

From a young age I tried to fit in,
Observing those around me from where i was sitting.
Taking in their smiles, jokes and body language,
Learning this social code which they use to their advantage.
My manual is not the same,written entirely for me but I have not read it properly.
Navigating a world where I copy to survive,
Forver wondering if I sustain this will I learn to thrive?
I have become a result of continuous masking,
In social situations I feel like I am drowning.
Living in a world which does not feel for me,all I can do is write about my isolation in poetry.

do you know how hard it is
to have a million thoughts in your head
but no words to speak?

to be screaming “help me”
but no one can hear you?

to be smiling
but having tears drip from your eyes,
betraying your true feelings

to respond to someone in your head
only to realize you never really replied

they call you quiet
but they don’t know how loud you really are

I’m growing and changing
Sorry it took so long

I’m learning how to fit in
And sing my own song

All my mistakes
Were part of my masking

Doesn’t excuse them
Just please understand
The difficulty
Of the task

I’m this way for a reason
I can’t change my seasons
But I’m getting help

Learning to take off
My
Mask

Don’t speak, listen

When you need it
Just ask

Everyone else has gone home
I watch the waves and wait for the taxi cab.
Desperately clinging to my thank yous and sorrys I burrow myself in them, like a scared, lost kitten.  
Always needing.
Forced to be the Chameleon,
how could I know anything else?
God can only judge me, if he can find me.
I keep making gods out of people.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
I hold off until I can’t.
Nail me by my feet and by my hands
something inside of me
craves to be crucified.
Guilt has been woven into my body,
by hands as old as exodus.
To the Chameleon, this is what it is to be held.
This feels like home.
This, right here, is my everlasting.
Thank you,
I’m sorry.

I watch them talk, express, emote
Studying every movement, every smile, I take note
Compiling the data in an organized fashion
Psychology books I devour with an unbridled passion
Putting on a mask like I’m at a masquerade
Underneath lies a little girl, alone in a big arcade
Practising my laugh in front of a mirror
Wiping away tears just to see it clearer
Searching “how to identify sarcasm” late into the night
Sore, tired eyes from my phone’s bright light
Relapsing into tears
Ridicule is one of my biggest fears

Why can’t I be like everyone else?

I have spent
My entire life
Trying to figure out
How to be everybody else
To the point where
I don’t even know who I am anymore

I am not a book
I am not a poster
I am not someone you can read
I am not someone who shows her emotions.

I have a constant battle in me
I have a voice in my head saying “You got this!”
I have another voice saying “You’re worthless!”
I have a tornado of emotions that will not stop spinning.

You have seen me
You have heard me but
You have never known me.

I hide in dark corners
I hide from you
I hide from them
I hide from myself.

What am I afraid of?

The truth
The love
The pain
The judgment
Or maybe all of it.

With truth comes judgment and
With love comes pain.
So I hide

I bury everything
I bury sadness
I bury happiness
I bury loneliness
I bury anger
I bury joy.

But when it gets to be too much it bursts.

Everything and anything that stands in the way of that explosion gets demolished

My relationships
My friendships
My mind.

I am a broken person
I am a ticking time bomb
I am not a book.