my blinding cynicism

There's a raging storm in my head.
So much confusion,
So many thoughts
while laying in your bed.
I keep myself from turning away,
I'm trying to ignore these feelings,
so i ask about your day.
You're talking slowly...
Completely aware that I'm not listening.
I'm reaching for something,
The feeling of sure stillness,
Any sense of camaraderie between my soul,
and mind.
You ask,
what am I thinking,
What has got me in a bind?
Even after declaring myself alright,
You insist,
Deciding that it's worth a fight.
Claiming you can be there for me whenever i decide to tear myself apart.
I scream its madness.
You opine,
Its art.

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