Hidden Inside

Everyone keeps a part of themselves

Locked away

In a place where sometimes,

They don't even know

How to bring their real selves out.


I am one of those people.

There's so much darkness

That surrounds who I really am

That hides who I want to be.

Who I want to be

Is so well hidden

That I don't even know,

That I can't even get a grasp on it.


Sometimes I touch it,

Brush it,

And get this feeling

That I'm made for so much more,

But then I get scared

Or nervous

Or anxious

And pull my hand away.


Who am I really?

Not even I know.

I have a strange duplicity, though.

When I am out and about

I'm not who I am at home.


I can't figure out

Which is the real me.

One side is bitter and angry,

Hurt and lonely.

The other is out there

To make the world a better place,

To try to spread hope.


Maybe it's just seeking

Seeking what one craves,

But if I were to choose the one

That I want to be real

It would be the one

That I am outside

Because I hate the one

I am at home.


I hate feeling bitter

I hate feeling abandoned,

And I hate feeling angry and lonely all the time.


So which side is the mask?

I guess I'll never know,

But what keeps the real me hidden -

That broken and lost thing -

Is because I feel like I have to be strong

And hide my vulnerabilities

To keep movin on.


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741