A poem unwritten

I Am Only The Me That You See.
Standing Here,
Average Everything.
An Eye Witness Couldn't Pick Me Out Of A Fuckin' Lineup.
invisible mostly.
 
I'm Not Particularly Tall
Or Short Enough To Joke On.
Look-Wise,
I Fall Somewhere On The look once,
and then walk on.
I'm Not Too Built
But I Ain't Frail,
Voice Isn't Deep,
Nor Too Shrill.
Noticeable Scars, I carry as armor.
The scars underneath, well now you need to dig deep
I am just me.
Just,
Average Everything,
 
But Average Is Only Flesh Deep,
The Real Tattoo Is
Beneath The Outer Shell,
In This Heap,
of human Hardened,
Crystallized,
Protected,
Hidden...
Darkness.
 
It's A Poem.
The Poem I've Been Writing Inside For Years,
But It Has No Words.
So I Can Be The Me The one you can all see.
 
Let Me Ask A Question.
Have You Ever Taken A bottle of Coke,
And Shook It With All Your Might,
But Not Opened It?
Then Just Watched The Bubbles,
Enraged,
Confused,
Violent,
Completely un-tempered And Without Direction,
They Have No Release,
No Escape
And No Control.
 
See Inside,
Beneath My Surface,
Ruthless bubbles Scramble  
Always In Jeopardy.
Inside,
There's A Poem That I Just Cannot Write.
It's Been Writing Itself For Years,
But The Words Won't Transcribe.
It's A Can Of Worms,
A Pandora's Box,
A Real Fucking Doozy.
 
Inside,
A Phantom Haunts My mind.  
It's Been Written,
But Not Scribed,
I've eaten It,
Lived It,
I Breathe It,
Silently,
It Silences Me,
And Controls Every Moment,
untraced,
So That I Can Be The Me,
That You See.
 
The Words To This Poem,
Change Everything.
The Entire Track Of My Existence
Would Be Thrown Off Its Path,
My life Would Crack wide open,
The Dreams,
Of People Mistakenly thinking they know the Facade,
Will Shatter To pieces.
I Must Keep Being The Me That You See.
 
This Poem I've Been Writing
Is One Of Both Truth And Lies,
One Of Deceit,
And Ultimately Its About Making A Decision.
The Decision To Release Infuriated Demons
That Lurk  Close To my Skin's Surface,
Even I
Am Amazed They Don't Seep.
 
This Poem That's Been Writing Itself With No Words For Years, from the moment of birth to the present day.
A Mistake, In birth,a girl I was, instead of an heir to the devils throne
It would be Secrets Revealed,
Which,
According To Some,
Might Mean I'm Being Healed,
But Even The Best Medicine Has Side Effects.
 
This Poem Eats At My Insides,
I'm Internally Lifeless,
Eternally Frightened,
Don't Know What Life Is.
 
But I Cannot Write This Poem.
I Shouldn't Even Write About Having This Poem,
This Poem That I Cannot Write.
See, I Am Only The Me You See Right Now.
But If The Right Letters
Appear In The Right Succession,
If The Words I Fear
Are Written And Read In
A Certain Direction,
This Poem Would Materialize.
If This Poem Materializes,
I Have
No More Poems.
There Are No More Words.
I Am No Longer The Me That You See,
No Longer Average.
And No Longer Hidden.
All would be left, is the shattered and broken, empty shell.
so my poem stays unwritten, just sits on the shelf of my mind.
driving me slowly insane. at the truth of a life that has held me down,. held be back, from being what i should have been.
instead of the shadow of what is left.
This poem will never be written, once its done,
no more words will I ever pass my pen.
The demon would have won.
because I would be dead.