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Writing my Heart out
Am I wearing my heart on my sleeve?
No, I am not.
Muted.
But, it never stops me from writing my heart and soul out.
Leaving words of my ins and outs.
After all, who will believe me?
Those that I have told just forget.
Act like I am crying out because I feel like I am a misfit.
Believe me, I am not trying to compete with anyone.
That is the last thing I want, even if I was "made" for it.
A human being is not made of metal but flesh.
Yet, there are those that expect me mesh.
I will write as much as I want to.
Hear me out or not.
I am no longer free for their entertainment.
You got first seat admission?
My apologies, I am no longer taking personal commissions.
Instead, I will spill what I need to.
I will be an empty husk if need be.
Rid the secrecy.
I hid more than those think they see.
I am as tired as you for layering scotch tape on my thin line of a mouth.
Let me see how much you can handle as you hear my lifeline go from north to south.

As a flurry of written pages fly by,
no one will realize they were watching someone watch their life flash before their eyes.
-Snow that Flutters down like Feathers

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