Self Imprisonment
Build my shelter shall I….
No more wanting to die
The pain of an unhappy past, present and future.
To feel love, tenderness and faith in ones’ self.
Must I always be the emotional moocher.
If I show no pain, grief, or longing;
then I show no weakness, - no tears for them to see.
No food for the vultures shall be given from me!
Emotions are but the feast for all vultures to feed upon.
I don’t want to feel any more;
no more to emotion a whore.
To sleep, to sleep but, death is the big sleep.
Is that true freedom? I know not…..
Insane am I? I know not myself.
To really feel alive inside again.
I wish I knew such wealth.
The mirror people I pass each day.
The norms of society I do not fit; for I was not made their way.
Nothing special am I, nothing valued to greatness.
With the shelter I built and the masks I wear within.
I can hide my true feelings behind my masks;
giving those around me what they want me to be.
To an art form I have made this; deceiving strangers, friends and kin.
The eyes tell the truth, but no one wants the truth.
They want me to be what they need me to be,
and no one has the time to really care.
This farce is my defense and my prison created by me.
Sometimes I wonder what will it take for me to ever truly be free.
Build my shelter shall I….
No more wanting to die
The pain of an unhappy past, present and future.
To feel love, tenderness and faith in ones’ self.
Must I always be the emotional moocher.
If I show no pain, grief, or longing;
then I show no weakness, - no tears for them to see.
No food for the vultures shall be given from me!
Emotions are but the feast for all vultures to feed upon.
I don’t want to feel any more;
no more to emotion a whore.
To sleep, to sleep but, death is the big sleep.
Is that true freedom? I know not…..
Insane am I? I know not myself.
To really feel alive inside again.
I wish I knew such wealth.
The mirror people I pass each day.
The norms of society I do not fit; for I was not made their way.
Nothing special am I, nothing valued to greatness.
With the shelter I built and the masks I wear within.
I can hide my true feelings behind my masks;
giving those around me what they want me to be.
To an art form I have made this; deceiving strangers, friends and kin.
The eyes tell the truth, but no one wants the truth.
They want me to be what they need me to be,
and no one has the time to really care.
This farce is my defense and my prison created by me.
Sometimes I wonder what will it take for me to ever truly be free.
1 comment:
Wow...that hit so home for me. I know what you mean about not knowing who you really are and not truly enjoying yourself. I have and do also wear masks because of my vulnerability to people. It's an awful feeling. It is a great poem, I am just sorry that it is your hurting so much inside that inspired it. If you ever want to talk, you know I am here for you. I understand not wanting to talk, as well. I love you and will always be here for you no matter what.
Post a Comment