I have always felt misunderstood by people. It is tough to get along with the people closest to me because we are so different. Today, I just lost it and walked away. There was too much pressing down upon me–work, responsibilities, insecurities. I was and probably still am a mess. The only thing that could help me maintain my sanity is writing. Here is a short cathartic poem. I named it ‘Outcast’.
Fathomed, it was not. I always
suffocate my breath whilst breathing lest
I upset those around me.
Unheard, a pin of an illusion punctuates:
Bloated dreams are