I am not cut out for this human heart.
It bleeds in colors only visible to me.
As I stand, clutching these broken parts,
It is not a pain from which I can be free.
I am flooded with these deep emotions;
Lungs desperately gasping for air.
They pull me under like the tides of the ocean
And leave me drenched in despair.
But I would still spill my ink if they asked,
Become an empty cavity on the shelf.
All this sadness I hold, I hope I keep masked.
Feeling this much is all I know of myself.
