Walls
The walls
pressing in
not knowing who i am
nor where do i fit in
to society,
a place
where variety
is misplaced
and either embraced
or expelled
without an in-between
or any type of rules
telling us what this all means.
You and me
fit so perfectly
into this imperfect world
but yet
we’re so out of touch with reality.
It’s insane,
the irony
is insane
and i think its time
to say goodbye to me
no wait
do not derive me
of this place,
not too soon
nor too late,
just wait
are you sure
i’m not prepared for the encore
because regret is stronger than gratitude
but maybe it’s time
for you
to say goodbye
to the person i had once been
the one that only some had seen
because i’m tired
of all this running around
trying to escape a place
where it’s wired
within me
to be
this.
To be me,
a mess.
Some would describe mess as art
but that means someone can interpret it
and with me where do i start?
Not here,
or there
where would i begin
oh the possibilities of what you could find
is something that i could not bear.
I would lose my mind
more,
than i already have.
Should stop looking into the past,
but the past is what defines us
and if not don’t be daft
history is the most important part
of this world that is a mystery
because humans have records
of recreating their mistakes
continuing to make them until it’s too late
to change
or understand what we have done.
But
I must leave my past behind me
and concentrate on society
now,
but how
am i supposed to do that
when my mind fast forwards to the future
and with it comes anxiety
but it’s okay
I’ll just sit quietly
and wait,
for the relentless struggle for sanity
to turn into a fight for authority
of my own self.
But it’s okay
because at least i’m not looking back
at the troubles I've faced
I’m looking forward to the future.
People describe it as bright
but i can’t seem to view
try hard as i might
the light.
Because
all it appears to me
and all that i can see
is a dullness over the earth
a cloud i can’t disperse.
People say it gets better
but when the storm clouds come
it just gets wetter,
and slippery,
and harder to breathe.
And not i can’t seem to feel
the way i felt before
it’s so much harder to deal
with this pressing weight
upon my shoulders.
But it’s just dead weight
you tell me,
it’s just dead weight.
But
it seems to hold so much value
and every day i talk to someone
i’ll just say “hey, let me add just add you
to the growing pile
upon my shoulders”.
Sometimes it gets so heavy
that at first glance
it’s hard to see me
hidden,
under this facade
or,
whatever is around my heart
these days
to protect it
from the inevitable downpour
of the torrential rain.
But hey,
i smile
and i swear,
i’m not insane.
