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misscris Junior Member
since 2000-07-17
Posts 27Leawood, KS, USA |
Why do I defend the image of myself to those who don't even know me? Why do I feel compelled to explain actions which need no explanation? And after a lifetime, why do I still feel suffocated by my own skin? I have millions of reasons to life, yet I need only one good reason to die. . . or do I have that backwards? Regardless, I tear at the image of myself with words so subtle I almost laugh at their worthlessness, and no matter how many faces I show the world, they still stare, ripping me apart, shredding the pieces beyond recognition Waiting patiently, with open ended questions inviting me to slip, and I assure you, they'll wait for the sick satisfaction gained each time I err. So, I smile back with a stillness I think disturbs them while their questioning looks disect my every move and assume my every motive; And despite the hollowness of my expression, they cannot escape my piercing gaze which contradicts all they think they know And lets them conclude that all their scrutiny has been in vain For the secrets of my heart, and the reasons of my being will remain a mystery, that haunts them till the end. |
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