journey into the psyche

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: November 12, 2017

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Submitted: November 12, 2017

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I am not

an addict

 

I just like

to have

fun.

 

is it a crime?

to want

that happiness

to desire

that serenity.

 

my days pass

like the slow

hands on

the clock.

 

I wait for

the moment

when I can

be free

 

I long for

the feeling

the perfect

idea

of the feeling

and it

never

comes.

 

my words are empty

and shallow

and they do not reveal

what I know to be real

and I only want you

to understand.

 

how can I make you understand?

 

do I understand?

 

is there something wrong with me?

 

why do I complicate things

mix them up and confuse myself

tangled like a web of angry knots

and self-loathing

 

all my life I’ve been trying to

silence this anger inside me

and I do everything I can to

muffle it, hide it, and it

escapes sometimes,

despite my struggles,

like hot steam leaking out

from under the lid of a pot of boiling water

just a little steam, but it

still burns.

 

when I can, I open the pot

so the steam goes on me first,

but if I forget, I hurt people.

and they hate me for it.

 

it’s better for everyone if

I just keep to myself

avoid hurting anyone

avoid scarring anyone

avoid anyone and everyone

 

am I protecting them or am I protecting myself?

I don’t want to show them this anger

but why?

is it because I don’t want to hurt them

or because I don’t want them to know I can?

how could I live on knowing

everyone knows my secret

the secret

that I am not like them.

I am an actor, I pretend

to be alive and to be real

 

but I’m the enemy.

 


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