What makes me quiver

Is what makes me eager

Is what keeps the bats hanging from the ceiling of my mind

The cobwebs clench onto the unspoken thoughts

The spiders scatter across unconscious motivators

I refuse to learn of who I am

For I am scared that the true soul behind the gleaming steel mask is a pathetic sparrow with broken wings

Who cannot even pretend to be able to fly

Unlike my artificial wings I strap on every morning

Pretending I’m fine

Pretending each step as I go into flight isn’t like trudging through mud

But this mask is a straight jacket

I strap onto myself

That entraps the struggle;

The internal wrestling match I have with myself.

I don’t want to be a hassle,

I have all the luxuries and privileges a 21st century kid could ever want,

So for me to struggle day after day

From a consuming worry

That pervades the space I take

That distracts me from the present

That drags me under the past

That shakes the ground beneath me

Leaving cracks before each step,

Is foolish,

To be sad

To be scared

To be frustrated about things that only exist in my head,

But it’s not as simple as readjusting my focus

It isn’t as easy as putting on a clean shirt and walking out the door

But it is because I have access to these very things,

It is because there are so many people who don’t,

That I

Cannot validate my pain

Yet I still feel it,

It suffocates me the way cold air down your back makes you shudder,

It is because I tell myself that I do not have the right to feel the way I do that it consumes me.

Each night,

And I can’t sleep,

Dark dreams,

Wake in sweat,

St-st-stuttered speech,

Hidden opinions,

Deluded hopes.