There's a constant war going on inside of me. I hide beyond an illusion of perfection that no one sees through... Well, almost no one. Only a few have seen past my mask, my outer appearance of security, innocence, and perfection to see a very insecure, scared little girl with more problems then she cares to admit. No one hears her cries of pain and sorrow. When her heart breaks no one is there to pick up the pieces. When she cries no one offers a shoulder or a listening ear. When she falls apart, no one is there to help her get back on her feet. No one but herself. And so she sets up her outward appearance day after day, and makes everything appear to be normal, until the next time someone wrongs her or hurts her or tries to bring her down. Then, she goes off again alone, to build it all up again. And so it remains, a tiresome cycle: create outer appearance, have it stripped away, and pick up the pieces and start all over again, without any help, all alone.
Reason for writing:
At the time I wrote the poem, this is what my life seemed
like. Now, it's not so drastic, but I find myself in much
the same position now as I was then. Not many have seen
this poem, and I would appreciate any comments that I could
get about it, and any of my other poems that I submit.
Thanks.
Birth sign: Capricorn
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