Underneath

the insides of me feel like they are forging 

clawing at the internal sides of my rib cage

frantic panics hidden under the layers of sensibility

i am too practical

too logical 

my craze is heavy, sinking far below 

that can only be seen when one catches the small glimpse

of external internal screams hanging on the tips of my eyelashes 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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