I’m like a ticking time bomb.

It’s only a matter of time.

I shove my emotions down my throat.

Shhh, they don’t have to know.

Sometimes I don’t cry for weeks,

but we all know that’s healthy… right?

_”It’s ok, I can do this,”_

I tell myself.

But maybe I can’t.

I’m like a professional actress,

I’ll show you whatever emotion you like.

No matter what I’m feeling,

I’ll make sure you feel right.

Who cares about my feelings?

Definitely not me.

Probably not my friends either,

but that doesn’t matter… right?

I’m like a running waterfall,

I look fine on the outside…

but inside I’m a mess.

Who cares about comfort?

I’ll make sure I look my best.

With flowing shiny hair,

a corset cracking my ribs.

Beauty is pain…

but not to this extent.

I’m like the ticking time bomb,

but maybe I shouldn’t be.

Sometimes I get asked

_”What would you like to be?”_

An actress? No.

A waterfall? No.

I’d just like to be… well…

Me.

_I never belonged in this perfect world,_

_this insane menagerie._

_Maybe I should make my own?_

_A cottage, a bakery, a cobblestone road,_

_whatever emotion I feel… ah, yes,_

_now that’s where I shall go._