I want to express my true form,
but it’s all a violent storm.
I want to speak up,
but I’ll just blow up.
I want to let go of myself,
but it’ll just be a blight on the shelf.
I want to cry and surrender,
but everyone knows me as a mender.
Is it only me that doesn’t have an expression?
Or disguising myself is my obsession?
Do I point finger on who to blame?
Or should I cover myself in shame?
I stay away from everyone because I know my capability,
but what’s great about me is my flexibility.
I know I act detach at certain occasions,
but this is my only way of evasion.
The point is I’m always fine,
because I’m always on cloud nine.
You will always see me smile,
because I make sure my presence is worthwhile.
It’s moments like this, where I deal with emotions,
that my head starts to create commotions.
As time flies the frustration disappear,
and I find myself writing this poem right here.
“Tough times never last, but tough people do.” ~ Robert Schullner