Walking down the aisle of thorns
With the gashes leaving me ache
Assuming the red was exodus
And the green were to soothe
The melody in my ears
Apprise me with the longing
I did gainsay the fears
Thinking this is the bold's road
This hoax I loved
And this hoax I praised
Neglected to pass the trial
As I couldn't reckon
The red was black at night
Leaving the green be the viper

I'm fine"
The response,
a sconce.

People echo this to escape the outcry.
The cry they hold on to tightly behind that damaged brick wall
they use to stall.

Only the holder knows the deceive,
while people around them believe.

I'm not fine; I’m hanging by a thread, so thin,
With the weight of the world pressing down from within.
This fragile line frays, I can feel it unwind,
While tangled webs clutter the depths of my mind.

Empty yet twisted, so fragile, so tight,
In a space that feels hollow, with barely a light.

"Will I ever break free? Will I make it alive?"
These questions keep echoing, trapped in my mind.
Instead of a rise, I'm caught in a dive,
Descending a staircase, steep and unkind.
"Am I fine?"

You never knew me before,
And you probably won’t care much afterward.
Nobody probably wants to hear what I have to say,
But just in case…

Am I good enough?
If I am then why don’t I feel like it at all?
Is feeling unworthy just another facet of existence?
Is a lack of self-worth just another problem to persist through?

I’ve always kept to myself.
Tried to hide the innermost parts of me,
Well protected by a wall.
That way, I keep myself safe.
But is it really safe?

Maybe I am too hard to get to know.
So people don’t even bother trying anymore.
Maybe that’s my own fault,
I wonder about that a lot.
Every now and then a person slips through the cracks,
And if I’m lucky I gain a new friend.
I’ve never had the best luck.
So I keep most people at a “safe” distance.
I don’t mind being alone,
But I hate feeling lonely.

I think I have a pretty boring personality,
After all, being smart isn’t a trait people adore.
Maybe that’s another problem with me.
Add it to the list.

Sometimes I wonder what my friends see in me.
I worry constantly about how I’m seen.
I feel so unworthy, for how lucky I’ve been.
Am I worthy?
After all, they had to try real hard to get me to do anything.
Is that someone they really want to be around?
My anxiety, it cripples me.
Sometimes I wish that it wasn’t so loud.

Sitting in the background of a classroom,
Makes me wonder if my presence changes a thing.
If I was gone, sick for a day, would anyone notice or say anything?
Probably not they have better things to do.
Maybe I am just a narcissist, add that to the list too.

Will anyone ever truly understand me?
Will I just be another person cast aside?
Will I just be forgotten?
Who can say?

Maybe I am just too sensitive,
Though I try to not let what people say affect me.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”
All lies to mask the pain.
Words hurt.
People couldn’t care less.

They say just to be yourself,
But what if yourself isn’t what is popular or wanted.
How long till the loneliness sinks in?
Perhaps it’s all just a big misunderstanding.
Maybe I should try being more open.

Always wondering, what do I not have that others do?
What makes me so mediocre?
Why can my friends be more social than I am?
What skills do they have that I don’t?
Why do I always feel so awkward?
Why do I always feel out of place?
Why do I always feel so lost?

There are things that I would love to say.
Certain words that would brighten up my day.
To someone I adore.
The effects those words may have would cause too much change.
So I’ll bite my tongue as I always do.
Pray and hope that the feeling washes through.

The overthinking mind is a blessing and a curse.
Creates so many fictitious scenarios.
All unnecessary, all compulsively,
No point in trying to stop it.
Anxiety doesn’t help the picture,
Always wondering if I’ve made a mistake.
Always fearing that I’ve pushed someone away.
Always thinking about what people think.
Always hating why I feel this way.

I don’t think I look the best.
I’d rate myself a four to a six out of ten.
Maybe that’s a bit too harsh.
Or maybe that’s a bit too nice.

The future is a scary thing.
Fearing I’ll lose everything.
Will I amount to anything?
Or will I be nothing?
Time will tell.
I’ll dread it until,
The future becomes the past.

I’ve grown scared to look people in the eye.
Silly, I know, but it's become a slight phobia of mine.
I look up, down, everywhere around,
Except in the eyes.
I’m trying to get better,
All I can do is try.

Everyday is about the same.
Prepare your mask to hide the pain.
Don’t let the dam break away.
Just smile and wave.
Am I okay?

Am I good enough?
Or are my friends just crazy?
Am I a good friend?
Or are my feelings going hazy?
Am I interesting at all?
Or is my perception of myself just flawed?
Should I feel proud?
Or should I just create a shroud?
Is the real me worth seeing?
I don’t know
I don’t know…

You didn’t know me before,
You probably still don’t know now.
Maybe though, you’d like to know.
That in this moment,
This specific moment,
That I’m writing this,
Or technically typing this,
I feel good enough.
Not because anybody told me.
Instead I told myself,
And I believe.
So maybe just maybe,
I am good enough…

Reece means enthusiasm,
Enthusiasm I rarely feel.
When it comes to most things,
The emotion is fear.
I wonder if it is a coincidence,
Why, I am named this name.
Or if there’s a reason,
Why, I think this way.
For something to entice me,
It better be something really good.
Most things that look like
Fun I don’t like to do
And I get misunderstood.
Sports sounds just awful,
Something I wouldn’t enjoy
I’m not much of a competitor,
They are just a lot of noise.
I don’t say what’s on my mind,
As often as I should, for
Fear of being misunderstood.
But writing, oh writing,
It’s easier to put down
What I think, Me,
Reece Ellison, the anxious
Boy with a world inside his head.
Huh, I guess there is some
Enthusiasm hidden deep down
After all…

LORD GOD i know it's been a
while since my knock
knees bruised the floor
sweating hands prostrate
still trembling. starving, LORD.
sated, LORD.  please, thine
cut-and-dry intimations intimidated
by each opaque insinuation;
JESUS CHRIST Gag Me.
i am tangled razor wire
twisted desire LORD GOD i
know it's been a while.

I am like darkness seeing the sun shine,
Eluding jealousy a tale so refined,
They have worshiped the sun the stars,
Alas,I am like the moon the reason of whose praise is yet to define,
Forged with sorrows I steal the light,
Always wishing of the sun to set so I can have my rise,
Am I just am alternative I ask getting a sigh in response,
Maybe you will know your worth one day till then be warned not to go astray,
The intangible replies on whose hands the whole world lies.

Love is confusing these days
Some say it never stays
The others claim
It only comes after some time,
When you and your partner
Left the infatuation behind.

Some say Love is spiritual,
It is the truth, the energy,
that holds the universe in an embrace...
It was always here
and in our hearts it remains.

Each verse shows me
Whatever love means
or is meant to be -
I know less and less
But at least I confess
My pure unknowingness

Will I ever not be excited to meet myself?
Will I ever stop expecting a knock at the door, to find myself on the other side, saying
“Hello, it’s so good to finally see you!”

Is there a part of me so removed from the paths I have taken
That is doing everything it can to make its way back to me?
Is she a lover I have forgotten too soon?

Will I no longer await the arrival of someone new
To join me behind the mirror and let me absorb
Enough of her newness to be considered whole?

When do I become
me?