Grenade

My body is the shell filled with explosive emotions. Bubbling bubbling bubbling BOOM. I explode releasing feelings I've never heard of regret, sadness, disbelief. All of this is madness. Someone come help me please. I can't cry out for help. I'm being too dramatic. Who can hear me through all of this madness. They say my outburst are related to badness, but is it? It isn't it's because when I say I need help they say Welp you better go get some. But how and who is listening I bow my head and pray to anyone who's listening? I am missing the one thing that used to love about Myself I'm someone else who am I? I look in the mirror but that's not me who are we I say  my reflection responses I don't know.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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