Beneath the Surface


One of my old poems:


Sometimes I feel like a puppet,

Pulled along in another's hands

Obeying the orders to do this or do that

My every rebellion already orchestrated

My attempts at freedom ended before I can try to run

Will I never be able to live as myself?

Or will I always find myself obedient to someone else's will?

Sometimes I feel invisible


A ghost

Like no matter what I do,

I'll never be able to draw a breath which is mine

I look in the mirror, and ask if that person looking back is really me.

Am I that thing in the glass? Isn't that a "Stranger"?

I don't feel like it's me.

Who am I, anyway?

What am I?

How do I know that I'm real, that I'm truly alive when I don't know that I've ever lived?

Sometimes I feel like I'm lost in the animal,

I want to scream at the world

Beat at my chest and roar.

I want to escape this cage,

Rip open the door,

Tear off these shackles.

I want no longer to go from master to master.

I want the power now.

And yet

And yet....

Do I?

Shackle me

Claim me

Master me

Open me

Free me

Make me choose.

Until you do

Until someone dares to draw near the cage

And put their fingers between the bars

I'll remain the beast.

Whether I lurk in the corner, my voice lost and broken by fear

Or I rage against the iron, bearing my fangs to all who come near

It will be the creature who reigns.

But if you should tempt fate

If you might just draw closer,

And look into my eyes

You may be surprised by what you find.

There's more to me than the surface hides

More to the face and the smile that lies


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