In Reality

 It's Pretty Sad

I realized something today.
It's not something big,
just something rather sad.
Something that I thought
wouldn't matter,
a problem that I didn't know I had.

It's pretty sad,
to realize that I can only
express my thoughts on paper.
Fragments of my true
thinking will only be
painted in abstract nature.

Sentiments and feelings,
that ate inside,
that can't I express;
The unhealing gashes,
upon my soul,
that have been repressed.

It's Pretty Sad

I don't think,
I have the capacity,
to be honest with myself.
My morbid mind,
along with festering wounds
sometimes overwhelms.

No one notices,
which surprises me.
Am I really that different?
Not that I yearn for attention,
in fact, my cold disposition,
might pass off as disinterest.

My emotions of emptiness,
pain, loneliness and love,
wrap around my neck.
Under the mask of happy
smiles, and gibberish talk
there's a wreck.

It's Pretty Sad.

The downward spiral
makes the confusion
all the more painful to take.
Lifelessly void, colorless laughter,
only makes the delusion
harder to fake.

Talking about my past,
and why I do the stuff I do,
I am unable to explain.
The lack of words,
and the ability to understand,
decreases and increases disdain.

What do you want me to say?
That I was scorned
in my early days, for years,
by everyone I held dear,
so much so,
that I became
a twisted introvert;
along with the zero friends I had.

At the risk of sounding cliche,
I know I'm not the only one,
but still I gotta say that
In Reality It's Pretty Sad.