Inside Out

Inside Out

I was born into this world inside out,

with more than just my heart on my sleeve -

my soul covers my skin like a thin cloud of smoke.

An aura of raw emotion.

 

Wrong, weak, sensitive.

Targeted.

Very few have understood me,

they don't feel enough, but

they insist that I feel too much.

I have been told to feel shame.

Self-loathing, disgust, disappointment.

 

The curse of the enigma.

Each lifetime I have always been

inside out.

This makes me an expert in

understanding the misunderstood.

 

We are all misunderstood, most notably by our own selves.

Incongruent clients seek solace in my office,

appearing by chance, as if the universe were saying

heal them.

I certainly feel them, even before I walk

into the waiting room, or see their faces.

I can always tell which new client is mine,

their emotions scream at me like sirens out of water.

 

“Here, have a nice cold glass.”

We sit, build rapport, talking about relationship problems,

issues similar to my own, and not.

Either way, I say the words they were thinking.

Thinking but could not peel off the tip of their tongues.

The water helps them slowly dissolve -

progress.

 

Years of work, trying to fold myself like laundry,

“ turn outside right -

fold neatly and slide into the drawer.

Dry the tears and remain invisible.

Silence your emotions!

They are too loud.”

 

This must be the lifetime where I finally say no,

because I am still

inside out.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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