you are not the reason
i cannot feel comfort
amongst people

how can i begin to explain
the deep unsettling discomfort
waiting to erupt from under my skin

when i am among you
i am in the between
neither here or there

i think about things
things that hold me back
things i can't set free

i'm not letting you see me
because i am living
uncomfortably in my own skin

so if shutting myself out
will save you of discomfort,
so be it

It's an uncomfortable position to be in:
To be unhappy with yourself and others
It's like the thought of something greater
Is all you need to get through the day

And the question always seems to remain—
Should you remain voiceless?
I say, "No!"

Who gives a **** if you **** at tact
Or you can't find your "inner voice"
There's a true way to escape carelessness
Without falling victim to faux pas

If you look at yourself
Through another's viewpoint
Do you see content?

The seed of jealousy is a powerful thing
It grows when fed things you see,
Things you think you could potentially have but don’t
Things that shake your security and foundation

It makes you hateful and bitter
It makes you weak and passive
It makes you do things you shouldn’t do
Like hurt people
And lie

When I heard her first fake laugh it made me nervous
Her subtle insults made me afraid and not trust myself
So I thought and thought until my brains couldn’t take it
I gave it to someone else to sort out
The results came back: Yes, she wanted me gone but couldn’t tell me herself

So she would gaslight me
Passively say things that make me uncomfortable
And still delicately insult me, make me feel like I was wrong

I remembered I told her that women had done that before to drive me insane
She broke me down to frail my human heart
Tore me a part
Take out my bones and scratch, “You’re not worthy,” into them

What she didn’t understand is since I’ve been through it before
I could deal with it again
Much healthier, this time
I can reassemble myself just fine
Polish my bones and mend my skin myself

Because I won’t abuse drugs like she does
I have my hands to release all my energy
I can channel my rage through my voice
And scream louder than anyone knows
I show how I feel through words and images
My hands create and cleanse my world

I know I’ll be okay
It’s really her I’m sad for,
She doesn’t know how to take care of herself

Once I left, her kingdom of filth and loneliness piled up again
And she sat in her throne of 7-11 Styrofoam cups
Wearing her gown of fast food paper bags
Listening to the voices inside her head
Wanting to be loved again