I cannot tell these people how
I feel. Because these are the people
I see every day and
I don’t want them to know who
I am.
I don’t know if its a lack of
self confidence,
self esteem,
self love,
or am I afraid to
let myself out. Am I afraid
that what comes out
will be more.
Like- on the inside.
Inside of my head it's alright
but- when its time to share the bricks.
The bricks build up taller and taller
like- you can’t come inside.
My mother doesn’t know that
in between every sunrise and sunset
is the time for me to be.
The time for me to be where I want to be.
Away.
My best friend doesn’t know that
she doesn’t know me.
She doesn’t know that the strings
are attached. The strings of my well being
are attached to her stride.
Like- when she walks I will follow
and it will never be the other way.
Because I will not let the inside out.
Do we ever turn ourselves inside-out?
Like what’s on the inside
is more.
More than I want these people to know.
I walk in the same room and
they look at me like-
like they know.
The know nothing
because the bricks have built up
and there are gaurds
and the bricks will never come down.
