Trappings

It’s a skill of mature adults, it seems,
To smile, laugh. Scream and bleed,
consecutively. But silently.

As a mature adult I’ve honed this talent.
Only the select few know I lament,
for things beyond my control.

Though not even they know how I weep,
for those things I want to keep,
so desperately it aches.

I feel stronger now than I did,
perhaps one day I may bid
goodbye to these trappings.

Forever.

___________________________________________

Just about a few insecurities.