I have two modes within me.
The one in which i look down and ignore all that's around.
The other is me looking up, being proud.
The process is addictive, i must tell you.
Takes me into a dark cave and puts forward a show.
The show that makes me laugh and cry about everything i hold.
I was told, it would get easier but it never did.
Now I'm looking for those same old spots where i hid.
I see colours, hear sound.
None of it makes sense, nothing is profound.
I thought my future is a white canvas,
But i never got my paints.
Here I'm stuck with my hands tied,
Orbs exasperating the empty frame.
I see logos, people standing for themselves.
I got beaten up a few times but i need no help.
Surviving alone is what I'm working on,
But i may be friendly at times.
I may look at you and smile or ignore you for a mile.
My actions don't represent me.
I might be doing things I don't want.
I never told what haunts me, what i continue to trawl.
I sit sometimes and write,
It makes me feel light.
Yes there are some pages,
Where part of me died.
