it took too long
to realize the schism
between being born
an extrovert
and life beating
introverted instincts
into a dichotomy
where neither feels
confortable at all
leaving me uncertain
of what exactly i am
the anxious clown
or the poetic hermit
dancing in the spotlight
with eyes clenched tight
so no one can see
the broken hidden
in hazel dementia

i long to be held
while flinching from
incidental contact
you can adopt a stray
but can the scars
ever be fully erased
or does this atlas
of accumulated agonies
lead down circular roads
always heading farther
from understanding
a walking contradiction
beautifying ugliness
passionately implacable
suffering condemnations
from hyperbolic need
swimming skinlessly
through an ocean of
passive platitudes
in salt laden whispers
from tears left unshed