I was never one to show my pain
Sure, I wore my feelings on my sleve
But I would never tell that I was hurting.
I didn't want to be a bother.
Like walls the pain would build,
And build,
And build
Until I broke down,
Isolated within it's cold structure.
I would become a husk of who I am.
That was until I found an outlet.
Writing and poetry allowed me to be real,
To speak my pain,
To tell my truth.
With every poem,
With every piece of simile and imagery,
I was telling my story,
I was grownig.
It no longer felt like I was ticking away to the next break down.
No longer was I on the verge of self destruction
But under emotional renovation.
I felt like I could express myself better, like I could talk about my problems.
Like it just didn't have to build.