Speaking, but the words coming out don't make sense to me,
And I fear they don't to them either.
Dancing to the rhythm when I'm alone,
But suddenly the tapping ceases, the humming stops.
It just does.
Don't know if it's because I'm not ready to share a part of me,
Or if it's the fear that they won't like what they see.
It's not the feeling of being extraordinary taking me over,
It's the feeling of being the odd one out.
Always trying to blend in, I forget that oil never mixes with water;
It always remains apart.
They're always distinguishable.
Trying to speak but those words are just coming way too carefully,
Feeling as if it's a battlefield than a place to make peace.
Feeling that one wrong thing out here would probably damage it for a long time to come.
It's all in there,
But why is it all bottled up?
It's almost like second nature,
These walls always rise and never fall,
And I don't know how to make them fall.
YOU ARE READING
Beyond the Haze
RandomA collection of journal poetry. The haze of my thoughts often prevent me from living in the moment, and these are some of them.
