Taking It All Away

It frustrates me when you don’t listen

and turn the other cheek.

When you only hear what you’re saying—

Not giving me the chance to speak.

When nothing of me is sacred,

And you end up taking it all away—

Without asking me if you can,

and yet I don’t have a say.

Will I turn blue before you see what

I’m up against each day?

You don’t see the emotions I go through

because I put on a brave face:

a façade of masks that I lock into place.

Or when I can’t breathe—when I feel so numb

that I never want to get up after dropping to the ground.

The tears that fall from my face have to be dried alone;

even though you’re standing right there, you’re nowhere

to be found.

Bitter words are there instead, and they eat away at my soul;

making me feel nothing but angry and cold.

But you don’t see me shiver, or offer to be my protection—

because I’m the one that brings me back to my feet

after an unhappy recollection.

And yet you don’t see the relief when my friends dust me off;

give me a little tender loving and hugs.

So if you truly knew of the things that I was trying to say,

you’d be the one going through them with me,

but if you’re reading this now: it’s too late.