I once wanted what anyone wants: compassion.
There was something about me that people couldn't stand,
Maybe it was my apathy, sarcasm, or something of that fashion.
It seemed that from every social gathering, I was banned.
So, I built a facade in which my soul fought.
I closed down my heart, and there it grew cold,
This strong fortess centered around a single thought,
"Alone, I shall grow old."
Locked in the highest tower lies my true being:
A battered, tortured beast,
I had to keep everyone from seeing.
About my true self, to the very least.
Poems have the ability to set one free.
But more so, mine are the screams of the person inside me.