Me Time

If I could put my screams on paper, no one could read it. Eyes would water, ears would bleed, the noise would be deafening. I try to open up, and I’m greeted with silence. Broken sentences, awkward glances, all casual reminders. That in my world, it’s just me, one in the population. Me, myself, I, that type of relation. And it’s frustrating, tiring, when you can’t shake the depression. So you suffer in silence, try to use your discretion. I claw at my chest, to release all the tension, my heart and my mind, it’s own dissension.