Back to basics: The other Beginning

2005.......................The hidden...............

Simplicity dragged me,
no fancy,
no complexity,
no ambiguity.

What you see is what you get.

I've been too hard on myself.
At times when even I point the finger to myself when it's not my fault.
Fault?
I can't decide that every problem has a person that should be blamed.
But doesn't it feel better to know?
To know when to let up?
To know when to give up?
To know when to move on?
To know that the world doesn't revolve around me nor will it ever.

I confined myself to my beliefs but I fail myself.
But does that make me a failure?
No, though I have.

To see the mask that you have made so meticulously so that every inch of your face is covered crack and peel just like that.
People can see through me.
See the ugliness that is me.
And now I have the urge to just take it off and let everyone see me for who I am.
Now I just don't give a damn what people think of me.
I'm tired of caring,
tired of loving,
tired of everything that I have to offer and get nothing in return.
Not that I'm hoping...

The need to put on another mask is strong but before I do that, take a good look at me.
Harsh it may be...

The loneliness I experienced from time to time,

just drains all of me away,

who have I got to turn to?

And yet the wheel spins faster,

more revolutions,

more cycles,

and I'm caught in the middle of it.

When times I keep to myself in the corner,
when I fade from the crowd,
when I frown my deepest,
when my words softer than a falling feather,
rage is what I feel inside.
Anger isn't enough.

Rage for what I see around me,
what I feel around me,
what I sense around me.
And I feel weak after that,
weak from the tears.
Tears that cracks my mask.

I feel the need to let go,
not just to scream my lungs out,
but to tear my whole body inside out.
Squirming won't do the trick.
Writing all this down has no effect at all,
only strengthening it.

Vulgarities at the tip of my tongue,
I could lash at anyone.

I'm lost in my blanket of darkness,
drowning in my seas of sorrow,
falling into my bed of fears,
clawing out of my web of lies.

Sometimes it's just too much,
but no one knows.
Why should they when I'm still wearing that mask,
that fake smile,
that opposing nod that says that everything was OK.

When actually I'm not