A pensive face interpreted as anger.

Watching my steps interpreted as sorrow.

Every sound in my mind lingers…

Always feeling my time is borrowed.

If I could speak of what holds my tongue,

You would understand why I appear so eager for violence.

If I could release the chains that bind my soul to my demons,

You would understand my silence.

If I could not recoil at a kindly offered embrace,

You would understand the pain in my twisted face.

A laughter that grows louder as my despair deepens.

The feeling of control slipping as I become more self aware.

A lack of faith is a lack of sins,

So under the meadow moon I lay bare.

I am a constellation of a puzzle piece,

Separate but there.

A shape so clear,

And one day it will all disappear.