Clean Up This Mess
Clean up this mess.
I feel defeated once more, and get the clothes off the floor.
This order has now translated to, "You're a mess."
I feel the need to impress,
But also to rest.
My mind changes and shifts words.
I feel as if I will always be unheard,
But how must I be heard if I can't speak?
Children should be seen and not heard.
I feel defeated once more; shut my mouth and close my door.
I no longer feel like I want to be heard.
The only thing that seems to please is to be seen.
My looks shift and validate me through praise of those around me.
Maybe this is the only me worth seeing.
There's no need for the rest of me.
Simple phrases pan into endless thoughts.
Ideas and phrases leaving those and me distraught.
This writing may come as a shock,
But those whose minds are similar to mine are tortured by thoughts.
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