Those Things You Call A Poem

it is I?

I miss the times where I can be me freely
Not caring about the judgemental views of society
Always honest, call me blunt
Because I did not care for white lies spun

I miss the times I knew myself
My weaknesses, my flaws and the things I can do well
Now I'm just a like a bulletin board for opinion
People expecting me to follow like a mindless minion

I miss the times where my laugh was unburdened
Didn't sound so hollow and forced then
Miss those sparkles in my eyes
Rather than the disdain my words implies

Not wanting to be filled yet not wanting to be empty
That merciless void always tempts me To jump and never return
Gritted teeth as I endure that aching burn

As madness creeps closer
Bloodstained bitten lips smiles slower
More baring of teeth than a proclamation of mirth
This coldness I seep was not present at birth

Goodbye, good bye, good bye
To you, to you, and to you
Because I
Am closing my eyes, whispering
and saying and sassing adieu