A smile on my face.
Give me some space.
I do not wish to smile.
Just add that to the pile.
The pile of things to fix.
Its started when I was six.
I am never good enough.
I am not tuff.
I am weak.
I don't really speak.
I just do not wish to smile.
Add that to the pile.
I am glad to see you happy.
As I am being snappy.
I am not myself.
That is lost on the shelf.
Somewhere hidden, waiting to be found.
It will never make a sound.
Smile.
Pile.
Not going to happen, ever.
Smile, never.
Maybe in the future.
Maybe in nature.
I need some laughter.
It is just the matter.
The anger that fills me.
Just needs to see.
That it needs to leave.
And pull up a sleeve.
Just go and not return.
Not without a burn.
From your smile being to hot.
And burned in the pot.
A smile on my face.
Give me some space.
