no titles for now just checking
I will let myself go
turn into a round shape of politeness
innocous, bland, overripe
to quench every unloving feeling ever
I will turn myself inside out
where the wind hurts me constantly
and the whispers of their minds
cut me into ribbons
I will let myself go, like a never used chance
too afraid to conform
too afraid to succeed
A nice round ball of conformity
seething pain in the eyes
being wonderfully gentle to all
being loved by none
I will let myself go further down
shutting it all
shunning all
hating them with my warmest smile
my last moment resolutions
my pained complexion
I will see them all
happy in their persuit
while I fade away in dreams
I have not the courage to follow
To be born broken and in an age
where tinfoil is desired
where no contact is the rule
where feelings get hidden
to prevent the harm that may come if shown
I will make a ball of nothing
with this hands
And I will parade through their meetings
their reunions
their social gatherings
frantic for they too see
how tame and well behaved I am
secretly knowing
that they are pondering
whats so wrong with with her
with their polite weather conversations
and iced glances
Out of disgust
I ll anihilate myself
out of not knowing how or when or why
in the most unthreatening way
by damaging all that I got
that is me and not them
that burn while they mellow
that scorches the walls of my mind
Out of this bloobless shape I will be reborn
And I will go
further up
trying to look for answers
to engage myself in a battle unkown yet
To burn with all my desires
for once and all