Fuck

I'm tired of pretending.

I'm tired of wearing a mask. Holding it all inside. I can feel the monster inside, clawing me from the inside out.

Chewing on my heart.

I have to pretend so know one sees the truth. I plaster on a smile. You think I'm happy, confident.

In reality I'm black and cold inside.

I help others so that I don't have to face my own pain. Take on a load, so that my own is hidden within it.

Inside I'm dying.

Now does my poetic views make sense?

I doubt it.

After all....they are only words.