i do not belong here in this world.
there is no real place for me.
if there is one, it is probably in between
the cracks of a brick building
where no one could see
and i feel pressure coming
from all sides.
i have so much brewing on my insides
that i could open up a factory
and produce emotions unknown to most
on an assembly line of mundane days
and fake smiles
and going to sleep with the hope
that tomorrow will not be as sad
and waking up the next day disappointed that
i do not know where i belong–
perhaps in an ocean where waves crash and hit me
so that i can wake up swimming and feeling
so my bruised and atrophied
muscle of a heart can beat
with some sort of energy,
so that numbness will no longer be
a defining factor of me.
i am out of place in this atmosphere where daily
i walk around without my body.
i do not wish to exist in the spirit realm
where the shell of me is lying and trying
to convince others that she
i do not belong in a world where
i constantly have to control
my moods and curb
i do not belong in this mental state
and i am hoping that one day
i will find my spot where life feels safe,
where grief and hiding abates
and i can finally step
and look in the mirror
at my own face and see
that there is purpose to this pain
and i do
in this world.
at most given moments,
i could burst into tears if it were acceptable
to do so in public.
but it’s not so
i push them down,
squeeze them in a corner and i hope
i can forget about them.
and then when i need
them at an appropriate moment,
they are nowhere to be found.
the tears have turned hard
and so has my heart