The things that I once uernd for as if it was a blazing fire have died down now. Nothing it there now. Just ashes of remains that burned for my love nothing more nothing less. To be honest I feel nothing I'm not angry not sad just empty, as if I turned, from a heart that pounded from within my chest and it begged for more, now turned to a soft voice of nothing. "Nothing" it whispers in my head. I write why I feel and now the only thing it sounds like is, not good enough. My mind is a battle field for feelings even my own. I once wrote down what I felt and gave it to my teacher she asked me why nothing was on it I thought to my self it only sounded
Fake
Fake
FAKE
Nothing else not even a single whisper in my head telling I'm good enough. My words, my poems, and my songs all sound like nothing. The blank pages in my paper tell me fell them up with my words but everything I write sounds like nothing good enough. Nothing okay like I'm waiting for an approval for someone or something. I once wrote down what I felt for a essay and I gave it to my teacher she asked me why nothing was on it I told her that it was what I felt. She turned it over and scanned it. She found a small word on the back she asked me what it said. And in a quite shallow voice I told her empty. So that's what makes my mind a battle field because I think my words would sound better unread and unsaid.
My words get hitched in my throat and down to my lungs. I think my words are toxic and that my lungs have police tape around them. So you never really can know the real me. She was never there my real word are what I type, what I write, what I seen or where I've been. So the real me is trapped in my lungs along with the ashes of what burned for love. She only escapes when I write so my poems are an escape, hope fully you will see her in my writings and in my songs. I fear people who know the real me it means they weren't scared to run from me. Only my closest friend knows the real me. The world changed me to something I despised. The one I despised where the ones that told every one they were okay when they were slowly breaking into pieces right in front of there loved ones but manage to keep a non emotional face even after people know they still will keep a non emotional face on. I write to feel free but now I feel like she's escaping.
The real me
.....
You don't know me The real me That's almost a guarantee Everyone knows the loud me Outspoken, filter-free me Laughs-so-loud-it-hurts-your-ears me. Gets angry at the smallest things me the me that is crazy and is Never serious ever me. But that is the superficial me. Even my close friends don't know me. They know the slightly more serious me Deeply appreciative the arts me Very secretive poet and writer me In love with aesthetics and colors me Deeply passionate about arts me. Enjoys spending all my money on others me. But that is the most me you'll ever see. You see there is a hidden side of me Almost no one will ever see. People always run when i show them the real me. Scared to get too close me. Scared to talk to me. Scared to look at me. Always over thinking me. Nervous about almost anything me. Smiling through the sadness me Painfully awkward around new people me. Never opening up me Lonely me. But that is unfortunately meant to be. No one see's the me that was once scared of the world and never wanted to into it. The me that was scared of people's words. The me that has scars from others thoughts. The me that was never really by anyone. My friends think that I'm fine. That I'm crazy fun. That I'm over protective. That I talk to much or talk to less.
But there is a reason why.
They think I'm fine because I cover it up with a smile or a laugh. That I'm crazy fun because I am always there for them to cheer them up or help them heal. That I'm over protective because I am so scared of losing them. I talk to much because I probably have my mind lost in the battle field and I need someone's words to talk me out of doing something stupid. I talk to less because I have no words to speak so love to give. Because I don't think my words are good enough to be said out loud for people to hear.
