(no subject)

[perfect_liar]

I still feel like shit. I've been so exhausted lately, and looking at the schedule I've got ahead of me for the two shows... I don't know how I'm gonna survive.

And today I wrote this really rambling, random-thoughts-thrown-together poem when I should've been taking notes in Precalc. Oops. It's about someone... someone I've become close to lately.

The Truth About a Not-So-Secret

He knows what is coming
and instinctually retreats inside.
The question is a revelation,
a new way of existing, a break in the shell.
Too much, too early, too much.
Hiding is now habit,
concealment like an addiction.
Tease, so close, run, hide.
A feeling, a secret,
felt like a slap to the face.
Contemplating finger movements
and brushing knees,
subtle signs overlooked in order to stay the same.
Change unembraced, avoided as the plague.
Never tell.
So then betrayal, a cellophane facade
fronted to keep a not-so-secret.
To fool, to appear normal,
to be seen like everyone else.
Instead, loneliness.
Once again alone with confusion
while even the fools laugh at petty
attempts at uniformity,
and the mentor recoils and
throws in the towel.