Sometimes
My mind is a storm
I can't find shelter
Thoughts hit me from every angle
Make me feel like I am falling
Or being strangled
Under all the layers of politeness
Insecurity, delusion
Confused antisocial posturing
Honesty to others but not to self
Under all the faces and images
And shells
What is the truth of the matter?
Does truth even reside here,
Or just lie there and die there?
Thursday, December 1
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2 comments:
This poem is beautifully written. It reminds me of how I feel in almost every social situation. I often feel like a spectator or intruder in a hive of bees. The conversations are all buzzing cacophony. A code I cannot (or refuse to) decipher. Its tortuous to desperately desire connection and loathe the means of attainment. (greasing the social wheels, enduring platitudes, etc.) This must be why I find myself alone most of the time.
At least there are more than one of us out there. Thanks for reading.
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