The Price of Freedom

Freedom, but its to my own demise, as I can't disguise that I'm secretly trapped in the compartments of my own mind. Redefining what it means to be contained cause though my body is free, my soul is restrained, estranged, as I can't escape my own thoughts, with this new-found freedom, my mind is lost, exhausted from the constant struggle of this tug of war that befuddles me. Caught between a dream and reality that I cannot decode. On the road to redemption, attempting to free myself from this condemned state that I continue to face.

Befuddled

Incessant game of cat and mouse, Constantly give and give and give all the while you repeatedly take Take TAKE. Until I'm just about to break, renounce my efforts and leave....bounce. And then you the smallest of things, rekindle my faith, revitalizing what I once believed was crushed, face flushed as I can't help but be flustered by theses circumstances, restraining my wishes to be demanding and command some sort of consistency. The constant struggle of juggling your desire to be distant, while close, it puzzles me. Befuddled by the ambiguous possibilities. Containing my hate of the instability. Forced to accept the disability our relationship faces, yet collapsing under the strain. I don't mean to complain but there's a limit to the amount of stress one can take, let alone maintain, and I'm teetering on the edge, shaking.

The Con Artist

The art of deception.
Altering one's perception,
creating a fallacious conception of one's self in efforts
to manipulate someone else.
Causing others to contemplate their values,
doubt themselves,
in lieu of the lies that someone else feeds them.
Extreme selfishness,
refusal to take heed of the distress caused.
Tangling victims in a web of fraudulence,
held hostage by dishonesty.
Constantly devising little white lies
to keep the disguise alive.
So caught in a sea of lies
that no one's longer capable of recognizing the truth,
hidden far behind the mask one wears.
Leaving despair amongst those
whose paths are crossed,
lost.
So doused in one's own trickery,
the primary believer of one's own invalidity.

Self-Control

Hand over mouth, pillow over eyes, holding in shallow gasps for air, attempting to silence her cries. She refuses to allow this confusion to obtain retribution on her mind. Sorrows refined, sadness hidden, for showing any signs of distress is forbidden. All animosity concealed, feelings of anxiety and apprehension is prohibited, and cannot be revealed. Fighting sensitivity as this girl has the propensity to succumb to the negativity that encumbers her soul. Thoughts of angst growing old, replaced with false feelings of complacence as she pretends to embrace the optimistic lifestyle. Outside she smiles though absolutely mortified, her positivity falsified as she cries on the inside. Her emotions aren't designed for these sort of lies. An amateur master of disguise as although one can sense the secrets she hides, no one can't fathom what...or why. Overcome with pride, she repudiates everyone's attempts to help, pry. Personal venting unestablished, denied. Admitting defeat means being victimized by the demons of her own mind. Instead, emotions are repressed, barricaded, ignored, dictated, and a facade of nonchalance is created. An image of serenity displayed, composure and tranquility portrayed, blanketing the torment that's hidden away.