They are too many.
Trapped inside, awaiting release.
Pent up, hidden from sight.
Rage would frighten them, surely, you know this.
Unsuspected, like your sadness.
You’ve lost all reason and when asked…

you don’t know.

You’re lost in the sea that is them.
Floating, sailing, swimming.
But nevertheless drowning altogether.
It’s all…
Pointless.

For they are too many.

Years pass you by, unnoticed, uncelebrated.
Hatred, has become common, as is your smile.
It lasts only for a short while.
And you dance,

You dance your dance of death.
Approaching things unseen, and undesired.
And when asked…

you don’t know.

For they are too diverse.
They cannot be measured.
Or categorized,
threading the water you sink rapidly.

Nothing coincides, it’s all…
disconnected.
You’ve taken it in your stride, but now,
now you realize,
you’re lost.
Take your loneliness, for example.
Sometimes, you long for it.
Mostly, you don’t care,
since no one’s there to see.

A mirror is but a reflective judge,
of an exterior we haven’t chosen.
Inside, chaos reigns,
without fail,
too many to count,
your mind but a dam waiting to burst.

Silence is what you long for.
Facts of truth, simple answers.
You cry without reason,
For you have chained only yourself.

And when asked;


You don’t know.