there's more than symbolism in a closed fist

I'm an open palm
until I'm not
and you don't recognise
the shape of my fist
or the way
I've been screaming
myself into nothingness

I've lost the voice
for conversation
and every faked smile
I wear for the outside
kills me every time
I step out into the world

I'm bleeding from wounds
you can't see
and this new landscape
scares you

Life is so much easier
when I've got open palms
and easy smiles
that fall into something worth saying

And I hate you for your weakness
that shies away from my darkness
when I weathered yours
during some of the darkest days
of our lives

You're not an open palm
reaching for me in the dark
and I don't know what to do
against a closed door
except close my fists and scream