Acting is a skill? A talent?
well then, it's my best skill….
because every day I fool those around me.
with a hole in my heart I am forced to hide.
so I act like my normal self…
or who they think is me. It is in fact a ruse.
they don't know me… they only see the outer walls.
even the most plain looking house,
could have an interior fit for a king
but not me. For me what lurks behind these walls
is the extensive pain of a broken heart and twisted mind

I hide myself away, in a palace of neurons
because I'm afraid of opening up.
The scarring has not faded, since the last time…
who's to blame?
do I blame the attacker? Can you blame a predator for taking easy prey?
or do you blame the prey, for not being better prepared

So I built up my defences. Reinforced my walls
fortified my emotion
I stored all the leftovers in a bottle.
but behind this stone mask lies a person
with real feelings. Real desires
buried for so long, that I fear he is forgotten
the young child that loved penguins
but got bullied for it
the boy that embraced the world with open arms
and instead got a pike through his heart

So I stuck my body, My mind on auto pilot.
trapped my very being deep inside behind these walls.
now I'm forever on the palisades
waiting to block the next attack.

But then someone comes along. She appears to be a saviour
maybe she can salvage my life. Help me tear down my mental prison
free me from the logic of my twisted mind
but part of me is afraid that the second I open my gates, drop my defences to let her in…
she will drop a nuke in my heart.

As if I would need it. just the slightest prod
would be enough to cause a meltdown
in the core of my body. My heart is bruised, scarred and damaged
it has suffered greatly and yet all I have done to fix it is lock it away
bottle it away and hope it heals
but it just bleeds out, and gets worse.
Emotions aren't like fire. Fire goes out.
emotions ferment, lime alcohol. They mature to form something stronger.
and when you release them, it's like releasing a payload
upon the Hiroshima of my soul.
but as the owl says: "every mushroom cloud has a silver lining"
what doesn't kill me makes me stronger.
maybe if she does hurt me, it will help strengthen my defences.
but what if it does kill me?

Clearly my physical body will survive. But that isn't me.
that is the mask that you see every day
the character that I act as. I'm already near death.
being killed by my own insanity
within the prison of my own mind.
awaiting hopelessly for salvation.

I locked myself away from the world… and then I lost the key.

Help me…