The restrictions upon my self
worth, never the right, write,
              wording, metaphor

of what I wish to show you, u, me.

That even though I don't cry or
                scream, I'm swaying

every sentence I write, right to  
the point that there was never
a chair to hold words.

Instead, I bleed my word, pain
with every stanza that collected
beneath holding me up.

Until I wrote so much that there
wasn't just air beneath me but solid
              meaning wanting to
hold me higher than that which
may make me fall...

i can see you slipping,
slowly but surely,
you don't ask for help,
don't see how it can be made better,
i try to help,
but really what can i do other than
love and pray for you.

my dear,
it hurts to watch you slowly drown,
rushing through life,
undergoing the pressure.

im scared for what will happen to you,
im scared we will drift apart,
never to be drawn close again,
im scared you'll go too far.

every conversation feels timed,
like every word has to be perfectly chosen.

i don't want to burden you if i need something
or if something is on my mind.
i want to help you the best i can,
but its exhausting for me too to see you keep
struggling and none of my efforts or prayers seeming
to amount to anything.

i know i ought to keep up the hope,
God will provide for you
and teach you something in the process,
its just hard to watch the one i love the most
slipping away and feeling overwhelmed and exhausted.

Hold tight. White knuckles.
Buttered hands, oiled pole.
Stand strong. Tall, proud.
Shaky podium, slippy shoes.
Stay sane. Fake smile.
Maniacs room, door ajar.