Hidden Truths

Expression. 

First thrown up me as a quiet gateway to express myself. 

It let others glance into my universe of self-doubt and depression,

Relieving all those years' worth of hopes and dreams,

Only to turn into more disappointment and sadness. 

All the while sitting back;

Continuing on,

Acting as though I weren't being devoured from the inside out by shadowed emotions enslaving me, 

Punishing me, 

Haunting me. 

Here I was,

Drowning in my own sorrows and pain. 

Yet, it seems as though even if it had consumed me in my entirety, 

No one would have bothered to notice. 

The world went on. 

The people continued on with their seemingly perfect lives, 

Forever proceeding, 

No matter who was left behind in the dust, 

Leaving the darkness to be dealt with by any other. 

 

Escape.

Quickly evolved into a hushed sanctuary for my thoughts, 

Unknown to others besides myself. 

Unharmed.

Untouched. 

Free to be one with myself. 

This was where I ran to whenever things became way too overwhelming. 

Where I could freely disappear entirely, 

Abandon all responsibilities, 

Flee away from the day's problems, hatred, and judgement. 

My way to be free. 

Always seeming to find me just moments before I went over the edge. 

 

Exposure. 

The only way to reveal my true self. 

Reveal all those discarded feelings and truth that were hidden all this time, 

Racing through my mind. 

Day by day, 

Month     after     month,

Year          after          year. 

Trapped by a double life that I feared would by revealed to the ones I cared for, 

Exposing who I really was and eventually, 

Bringing a death sentence upon me, 

Brought upon by those who sought out to destroy me. 

For that reason alone, I decided to secretly expose myself for who I truly was born to be. 

Who I was destined to become. 

Even if that included pissing off or losing those who claimed to love me most. 

 

Cry for help. 

The only way in which I knew how to confess that I was in trouble. 

I wanted help. 

needed help.

I craved help.

Feelings of vulnerability to the world and everything in it.

Many attempts and failures to discover a successful way of communicating my issues and struggles.

Many sleepless nights filled with tears and unimaginable harm done, 

All just to find a miracle way for someone, anyone,

To return back my cries of despair.

It was achieved, finally, with pen in hand, paper underneath,

Hidden truths spread across the page.

I have yet to find someone to answer these calls back with any sort of reassurance.

Almost 18 years of screaming out that I'm basically in a living Hell. 

Only to be answered back with ignorance, stupidity, hate, 

But the most hurtful of all, 

Silence... 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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