For when the world cries, it rains!
And you are only a being living in it.
A being so brittle, a being so little;
Yet, you plant your bare feet on wet soil.
And walk with your head held high.
As though the world weeps on your behalf.
You hold back tears,
You pour your heart out on paper,
You bleed on this very permeable membrane.
And as it filters your blood,
It tattoos words that your tongue dared not utter!
"You're supposed to be tough", you tell yourself,
But that very piece of paper screams out your name.
And tells the world that you are so much weaker!
You've learned to stack up "I'm fine"
You've built up walls with them,
But that very piece of paper can break those walls down.
And create a wall of its own;
One that is made of glass
So that the world shall see through your soul!
But wait! What if the glass breaks?
The world shouldn't have my weaknesses!
Nor should it paint me as a Byronic hero!
That isn't me! That can't be me!
I better seal this paper, and put it in a locker;
Or better, I'll burn it!
And I shall scatter its ashes across all continents,
Before it tells of what I long for!

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