Floating

They cannot fathom why I don't let them in Afraid they'll see me, yet not completely an image distorted and incomplete The ability to be seen is not one I hold

To prove to myself that I am one of the brave To prove to myself that I am one of the bold

Time goes by, surrounded by the same people A void grows where connections should have been made the idea of you and me…fades

Sadness engulfs me I've been writing poems, trying to let them in But yet again, they don't see Maybe this is how it will always be I don't understand what they don't see. Really, is it just me?

Poems, poems and stories rule my life afraid of judgment now, because it knows me too well trapped in my head because I can't trust the same trust I gave over and again in hopes someone will keep it, but none

And yet I still give it out.

I've been trying to understand myself for too long Why I feel, what I feel and how I feel it What I do, why I do it and what they will think I feel like I'm floating again close to the brink

Sometimes it feels good to be on edge taking in noise, but never really hearing it

Drifting through life like a spectacle a life force said to be vast and important Yet in the end amounts to nothing

When? when? My question is when When will I feel what I see others feel around me? Maybe it's not them that can't see, maybe it's me…

Note to reader: This and most of the pieces I have written on my page/blog or whatever you may call it, are something I write in the spur of the moment, something I write when I feel too much, and I don't know who to tell and how to express myself. I don't want encouragement in the comments; I want feedback on how it made you feel or what you think, not necessarily empathy. Thank you for your understanding. Apologies if this came of to abrupt.