Turmoil

I am dead. I am alive. Everything around me. Crying out inside. Calling out for life. Playing with this knife. Because it’s the only one that understands me. The one that wants to destroy me, too. The only one that will…besides you. You tear me you hurt me and make me scream. Calling out for life. But a life that will not come. Because of what I have become. Screaming running crashing down inside me I die and no one knows. All of these blows. Some from you some from others but all within the world. I hate it, it hurts me and I only wanna die. But inside I am dying. I shut out the world and the pain inside. I become numb and the fumes make me dumb. All of this hurt inside me it twists and makes scream. But only inside because on the surface I’m calm, collected, sure of myself and the world. Calculating and cool. Inside I don’t understand. Wish you do but you don’t and you won’t. All those who love me and I love are gone they leave me. All alone inside. The world whirling around me and I fall to the floor. Running out the door. But without direction. I don’t know where I go. What I want to be. All I know is that the definition of turmoil is me.