Being told to
is the one phrase I remember most about my childhood.
The words coming out of my mouth were neither
courteous nor sweet.
I should never speak my mind because
what my mind thinks isn’t
what everyone else’s mind thinks.
That means I kept it all
bottled up inside.
What a way to live my life;
trapped in a shell I call my mind.
My mind is cloudy
and scary, but I’m not aloud
to say one word about it.
The pain I feel throughout my body
is a pain
only monsters could feel.
Creeping around changing
everything that I saw good in the world to evil.
I wish I could explain it more clearly,
but how can you put the devil into words?
How can you lay out words that have been buried in a casket?
no matter how much people with they could change you or
no matter how much you wish you could change yourself,
it feels impossible.
So to make everyone else happy
you tell yourself to