A Scream

I am more than you know—

the feelings I never show

to anyone.

They don't need to be known

and no one will respond to every single thing that fascinates me

but I don't want them to. So it's okay;

It's okay when no one cares;

It's fine that people get annoyed

or ignore. But

sometimes the things inside of me

are things I haven't learned how to express but desperately want to

that scream silently in my soul without words, without relief

without the confidence to expel them.

And I don't know how to

beat them into submission, to

chop the nebulous ideas into bite-sized pieces

that are still true. It's

exhausting. My skin crawls into crevices where it doesn't belong

and sits there useless.