The secrets that I own,
are put up on a shelf.
It has terror,
and I’m scared,
but I know its my home.
Can I stand to let you know?
Can I let you know what it is?
It is how I see,
do you want to see like me?
I have no desire,
to make you change.
I can keep this in me,
alive and inside.
Someday, you will understand.
Read it through poetry.
Determine the ever changing,
flavours of my mood.
Keeps as a desire,
keeps to yourself.
I dont want to fix it.
You shouldn’t either.
Though to me,
it feels like some paradise.
Nothing can be wrong,
through your eyes.
Determine that,
I live in some living hell.
Maybe it is,
but it feels like home.
Its grown apart of me,
I will miss it.
I forget what happiness is.
Because I can feel it now.
I was born with it,
within my genes.
I may be living,
in a living hell.
But you know,
this is what makes me well.
