"It's my birthday and
I'll cry if I want to" seems
like a good enough excuse
to me. My heart is bleeding
and my pulse is throbbing, so
I scream them away with my
misery.
Unintentional emotion
and fears so set, that I'd rather
be alone than rejected.
A heart made of gold, encased
in glass, surely to be shattered.
There's no where to turn, no place
to hide...sooner or later you'll be
unearthed. Across the hall or the
campus, you're never alone and
that's both a blessing and a curse.
What a smile hides is tired eyes,
and even more serious, emotional
lies. But at the end of the week,
there's no one to see. Besides, who's
really going to miss me?
Packed away for a few days,
but praying for weeks are my
feeble attempts at some lasting peace.
But often I've found, with anxiety
abound, there's only so much time
before the next roaring beast.
Around the corner or under my bed,
my dad used to check to assure my
small head. With heart and body still
in check then, it's hard to explain
where it began. A story to unfold to
a sincere heart and listener, not just
a fake societal prisoner.
But then again, there's therapy too:
paying for advice from someone who
"understands you" and where you are
going and where you'll end up.
But the truth that's really it?
We're all eternally ******.