dark longings, revisited

No one knows the dreams I have.
No one hears the voiceless screams I make
in the silence of the night.
No one sees me through the subtle mask
I wear.

Where my tears fall in solitude, and
pain echoes in my heart, I am alone.
I cannot be whole.

It tires me.
This fruitless need to be understood,
when from unseeing eyes I hide.
What is the point?
Sometimes I am a stranger to myself,
yet no one will ever know me
like I do.

Is there a single soul out there who mirrors
the longings in my heart?
Imperfect, but still able to fill the emptiness
of my existence.
Not one has surfaced. Perhaps no one
is destined for me.

Perhaps not until I truly reveal myself.
But that in its entirety is a most fearsome thought.

For when all is bared and barriers
come crashing down, will you
still know me?

I fear the answer. No one knows, no one hears,
no one sees the secrets I keep inside of me.
Will you be there if I truly bare
the darkness in my soul?

October 25, 2006

—–

I wrote this piece some 2 years ago, during a depressing day, at a time when I was still too afraid to show the darker side of me. So I hid behind smiles and a happy face, drowning out the sadness that I felt then.  Until my soul cried out for release. After writing this and posting it up on deviantart, a few people dropped by to comment, total strangers who felt the same pain I did… and I realized then that I wasn’t truly alone… that there were other souls out there just like me. So now I figured, what the hell, I am going to be ME. All the sides, all the mood shifts, all the love and hate and anger and pain and joy and wonder… I shall express them all, here, for all the world to see, whether they judge me or not, I no longer want to care, because I want to be the ME that I am.

I may not be making sense to you, but I’m making a whole lot of sense to me.

I’m trying not to close my doors, so you’re welcome to come in and explore.

I can’t promise to tell you everything or answer all your questions, but I’ll talk if you’ll listen.

I’ll try to stop the cynic in me from protesting too much.