I can feel myself struggling to stay sane,
Tired from trying to flush my feelings down the drain.
My chest and throat aches from words I can’t verbalize,
Physically sickening me as I continue spewing my translucent lies.
Alone I lay with my back against the floor,
Everything flows out of me whenever I shut the door.
A never ending fight exists in my walls,
A result of the urge to spill my guts out in the halls.
Screaming and crying is something I want to do,
But the echos in the halls make it too loud for anyone passing through.
The urge is so strong I feel myself breaking,
And opening the door isn’t a risk that’s worth taking.
So even if my resistance continues to worsen,
I’ll stay quiet and write because it’s the only way I know how to communicate like a person.
© Grinchy