Words

Cry

Stumbling forward,
Holding the line.
Convincing the world
That I’m doing fine.

Secretly hoping
I don’t take a fall.
Trapped in myself,
Feeling so small.

Avoiding all conflict
I play each game to lose.
Constantly tripping
Each time I must choose.

Never being consistent
Means I usually fail.
Never being myself
Means I’ll never prevail.

I’ve become slightly bitter,
I regret things I say.
And I’m mad at myself
For becoming that way.

My sense of injustice
Is now more sensitive.
I’m way too concerned
With how others live.

I’m desperate to change me,
But I’m too scared to try.
Afraid I’m too selfish,
Afraid I might cry.