Sometimes I say too much

Reveal my crutch

Sell free peeks at the sludge


The silence is deafening

The looks bending

The weight heavy, unending


The opinions they never say

The judgment I’ll never stay

The disappointment, the gray


She’s a bit obsessed with her mistakes

Lost in that massive wake

Just release the bindings, that’s all it takes


I know the thoughts are there

Swimming through my veins like poisoned air

That hardens in a grinding glare


Their thoughts are not mine

Maybe it is just my imagination run wild

Maybe I’m a child in size nine


And with every step lament

I don’t walk so steady, I’m bent

I don’t fill the holes with wet cement


Or wrap myself in colored lace

Or cover the wounds in god’s good grace

Or practice my happy face


So maybe

In the end


Is my center


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