i am tired

there could be no other explanation

for these thoughts that swirl the mind

they're like clouds that build up

and the rain pours, and drenches the roofs

eventually it brings a leak

and the leak gradually falls to the pot

that collects every tiny drop of percipitation

and before you know it, it has filled the pot

to the rim

and then it 

overflows

yes, it is only a dream that the

one who is behind the makeup

is happy

and it is rather exhausting to exploit one's self

to keep up the image

of smiles,

perfect eyebrows,

and eyelashes that curled just right

oh, it's a tricky and weakening process

the damned cheshire cat taunts me in the distance

i wish that i was as happy as i claim

i wish that the filtered me was the actual me

but alas

it will never be.

and i ask myself

do i struggle as hamlet does?

to be or not to be?

what a problematic and delicate question

probe it gently and it'll cause a ripple

a ripple like no other

one ripple that'll cause the water to flow

flow free from the pot

to the cold tiles of the floor

it's a trap, that's what i tell myself

i'm trapped

and i wish i wasn't

but i put on a show

with every stroke of mascara

and every brush that contorts,

alters, and ultimately disguises 

who i am

i'm a trapped and controlled individual

and though my profile screams 

that i have never been fucking happier

it seems that as of lately

that could only be slightly true

maybe i wish for the ones around me

to see that of me

i care too much

i do not deserve to be trapped,

moved about,

and vituperated

they will not drive me six feet under

i am not selfish nor am i crude

i am simply another individual

yet i am one so unique

that flowers bloom as i walk

and die as i leave

yet, the confidence that i have,

so tactfully built up,

seems to be breaking

with every rock thrown cracking

the very structure of my already shattering castle

the castle that guards my heart and soul

i am a contradicting one

there is no doubt

but that is exactly who i am

how could there be another word?

there is none that describes

the exhaustion, yet achingly painful joy,

that erupts and controls me

i am tired