Saturday, March 19, 2011

Bite Me

Anger, Despair, Rage
Just another stage
I go on saying nothing's wrong
When there's such a big thorn
Comfortable in my throat.

Irritatingly funny
I laugh at other's jokes
When I am overcome with pain

You think I can write?
You think I am weird?
You think this is not a poem?
Burst aflame, Good night!

Why did I start writing?
Why oh why did I cry?
None of them will ever fill
The emptiness inside of me

Dark, hollow, lonely
I look at myself in the mirror
And all I see is a masked smiling intruder
Staring at me grinningly

I look at it surprised
What have I become?
I am not this; this is not me
Do I really pretend that much?

And it occurs to me
All those days
Those dark days
Those horror days
When the sun shone bright 
On my face.

And how I craved
The night.
The warm, comforting night
But it was not there.

And here I am now
In the grasp of daylight again
Amidst a sea of smiling faces
Pretending to care
Pretending to like
Pretending to be happy
When I am dying inside.

Protest against wrongs
Fight for your beliefs
They say.

I am but a coward
Looking at my smiling self.

For what? They ask.
What do you need?
I try to speak.
But my words are lost
In space.

I search and search
For the lost words.
Trying to find something, anything
To say.

But the words are gone
And I stare in awe
In the oblivious nothingness.

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