Not Myself

Soul Poetry

My apologies...

For I'm not myself,

as of late.

I feel apprehensive

about laying myself prone,

before the eyes of this


and critical

mob mentality crowd.

Afraid, that someone

will see behind

my shroud

and become

too close,

for my comfort zone.


that with wounds,

wide open and vulnerable,

the salt will be poured,

by those who wish

to inflict my mind

with their poison.


of their false smiles

that only mask

their deeply imbeded


and desire

to drag me under.

So I engaged

my safe-mode

by shutting down,

turning off,

and allowing admittance,

to no one.

Its easier this way.

Risk-free and painless.

By being,

not myself,

no one can hurt something,

they cannot approach.

No one can see

my scared little child,

that clings to my skirts,

with eyes wary and widened,

her little form

bruised and beaten.

        Nor can they do her,

        any more harm.

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