•metamorphism of me• [finished]

poetry

i have never understood
my own feelings,
never felt that
my mind and body
were connected.
i feel a crushing weight
on my shoulders
yet still express that i feel whole,
when i've been giving away
pieces of myself
to make others happy.
the only time i feel in control,
like i understand myself,
is when i hold a pen.
i pour my concoction
of bottled up emotion out
through the ink,
until i finally understand
what i haven't been able to say
when my thoughts have been speaking to themselves.