I found a poem I didn't finish among my things while waiting for my Sociology class to start.

Courage, Jesse

This bitter pill I'd hate to
compromise my sanity for.
I'm just told to run the lines,
my mouth moves, but no
emotion shows. Such loneliness
grows.

If I can't speak my mind, how
can you get me? Although you
said it's alright; I don't think
you'd understand at all. My
voice is my own.

So this is how I live my life:
pretty neighborhoods with cracking
smiles. Lost in their own messes,
so not to show-they have no
direction. Constantly running
in circles to prevent the
fact that they're not at home
in their own house.

I walk the streets; the winter
falling for the reflected sea.
The people smile up at the
snow-blissfully unaware of
the growing deafness surrounding
them.

When will we open to see?
To hear? To feel? To love?
Unreleased, completely free to
be that inner being tucked
away inside. I see the pain
in their eyes, and wonder how
it must be for them. Standards
are fulfilling in their own sense.
But do they fill each person's
quota completely?
Their burning eyes suggest no.