I do my best to be vivacious

I smile even though my eyes face the ground

I mutter the colloquialisms so necessary 

to be polite

innocous words devoid of meaning

tumbling out of my mouth

so vague, so astoundingly numerous

I never disparage anyone but myself

I imagine myself as a puppet, me holding the strings

Acting perfectly normal, correctly

Still I falter, still the fear hidden inside the puppeteer 

reveals itself in the robotic motions

trips to the bathroom when the terror overcomes

drinking water from a bottle as if suffering from an insatiable thirst

that can never be quenched

I hide from myself in the world

yet every moment is spent analyzing both

nothing makes sense

how much of life is tradition

trading centuries old lies

I do because I must

not because I want to

I fear if I abandon what causes me anguish

nothing will remain except the void of my existence

Never uttered the words that mean so much

too timid to have courage

to do what is right

everything is about appearances

except for the solitude of night