They’re different from the day, than

          what they look at night. I may look happy

          and content, at least most of the time, but

          some days I’ll just say “I’m tired.” And

                                                                                                           I hope

          no one really notices how I actually am.

          My body aches all over , I have the kind

          of tired sleep won’t fix. I’m not tired, my

          soul is tired. I’m scared, and I really hope

one day,

          I can get over the past. I’m scared of

          opening up to people. I show my 2pm

          personality instead of my 2am one. I’m a

          mess. No one’s going to associate with you if

you’re as

          sad as the sky when it rains. I can’t show

          the real me because I’m terrified.

          I’ve had my trust taken advantage of,

          thrown away like garbage. I want to be


          like I once was. But then I cared too much

          and I let too many people in. Now I’m

          never going to show the real me,

          because then you’re vulnerable. And just

as you’re

          picking the pieces back together,

          feeling better than you’ve ever been,

          and someone tears you back down.

          Then I remember they’re just like me,

pretending to be.


-          K.N.



Guide that inspired this poem: 
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Wow, I really love how you played with orientation in a way that left certain words to be read in or out of the overall poem... Just looked back at what you'd done with them on their own, and it's even more brilliant, thank you for this poem

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