My Questions

Why do these words curse me?
They bother me
When my weary soul
Tries to rest,
And when I need to write
They flee
And refuse to flow through
My fingers to the keys
To your eyes
To read.

My eyes beg me for rest,
My soul barely awake,
And yet I must write such words.
These words are sharper than blades,
And they sting more than salt of tears
In the wounds.

I can hear a door shutting
And my muscles tense,
Ready to be yelled at
For something I have done
Or haven't done.
Their words hurt more than mine,
They hurt like the sea in my eyes.

My only solace
Is in night,
And books,
Silence,
And music,
Rain,
And thunder.

When I'm near my friends
People of my own years,
I can pretend I am what they see;
The sweet and sarcastic,
The easy-going and insane,
The smart idiot.

I wish I could be what they see,
The one with no problems.
I wish I could see in my own reflection
What others say they see their.
But all I see is the sadness,
The weariness,
And the...
The loneliness.

Why can't I be
What everyone sees?
Why can't I be
What everyone expects?
Why must I always
Feel like sobbing
Whenever I disappoint someone,
Whenever I do something else wrong?

Why must I always feel so
Alone?