When its attempted, you're misunderstood to a level that its effects are a detriment.
The emotions that existed are replaced with a wall, and it's not of any use to even try to vent.
When questions are asked, they search through every possible way to circumvent,
every possible way to resent my intents, and I sink into myself, and am once again kept pent,
but this time to the greatest extent.
What happens then?
The part that was missing, begins to grow so distant, whose fault but mine,
for not leaving my inhibitions, for not foreseeing this transition, and now the light seems to grow dim, and...I miss him.
So what happens?
Are you running out of ink God, because I can't see what's coming, I'm going backwards, and my heart seems to be numbing, when all I want to be is vim, happy and humming.
This is what happens.
No longer trying, but succeeding, not by waiting or pleading, but simply by being,
me.
The person I truly am, free of the restraints, that keep me from who I am, from what I want to do and from what I desire to say. I refuse to succumb in this ocean of dismay.
So come again, at least meet me halfway, and I'll tell you what I think, feel, and wish but don't dare to say.
