My skin is a shell hiding the mess inside.
My eyes do not give out fear,
mi lips do not stretch to smile.
When I look unapproachable
I get a feeling of safety.
If they don’t ask, I won’t have to tell.
If they focus on the bitchface
they won’t see the anxiety clutched around
my ankles. I have to drag her everywhere.
I flinch when I hear laughter or shouting.
I am constantly scared there are eyes on me.
I am scared of being seen and I’ve spent a lifetime
wanting to be heard.
Leaving my four walls feels like going on trial.
I know they don’t care, I know they aren’t looking
but I cannot shake off this feeling that they
are grading everything about my existence.
I am scared the shell is getting too weak
to hide the misery and fear I am trying
so hard to conceal.