Look @ M3

I ask myself constantly, when people look at me what do they see? A mentally broken black woman who struggles every day with her emotions? The smiles that are forced but widely accepted. When will anyone see past my disguise and actually feel deep in my demise? I put on a wonderful show, speaking all wonderfulness and peace for everyone but there is still a burning hole within me. One I think every woman knows al to well.

Trying to widen and shape my aurora in the darkness. Everything that is happening around me, grant me serenity. I have a choice but to let it go or harp on it. What do I do? Dwell and let my anxiety get the best of me. Hidden away. In the depth of my own corner, shadows of my being. Can you see me? My eyes piercing through you. You can tell something just isn’t right, yet you walk past me and allow me to wallow in my own misery. It’s said that you can jump out of depression, but I just seem to be diving and drowing in my own ocean.

I am strong. Something I tend to remind myself regularly because I know am. Or I was. Or have been? hmmmm. Let me sit back and think.

Am I truly what I portray to be. Showing faces of what I want everyone else to see. Why do I let my anxiety get the best of me. Hidden behind beautifully sculpted masks. You would think its Halloween. Bask in my fake joy and smile with me. Annihilation of my past bringing me to where I am. Letting go but still frozen to the depth of the melody that play when certain strings are smashed.

In the same breathe, I am such a nonchalant and emotionless human being. Can you tell? Can you see the intense affliction that hides behinds my eyes. Do you see my struggles. When I say I am OK. I mean it, but you do you truly understand what I just said. Not needing advice but a ear and someone who truly has patience with me.

The collar in this instance isn’t in the BDSM world, but like a holder. Controlling what comes out my mouth because it is sometimes too daring for those to understand. I believe in stones to help purify but this mouth of mine can be so intense and sometimes I say things I don’t mean cause my mental goes faster than I can evaluate. So I close my throat in the hopes of controlling what I say, but eruptions from that hole in my face causee all types of disarray.

I am selfish and I know that. But after you have walked in my shoes, you would be too.

Especially with the lies that have comforted you and made you feel safe. Ill stare daring at you wondering if you’ll be the one who actually sees me. Or just another being that sees a pretty face and a joyless smile to only keep waking not knowing I’m on the brink of the edge thinking of jumping. Controlling one last breathe because I’m emotionally drained and no one honestly seems to care.