Being pulled in two directions, don't know what to do.
Fighting with my imperfections, they aren't noticeable to you.
In my mind they are magnified, to some they are a surprise
With an"I'm okay!" they are pacified, living in their own lies.
To most, I am invisible, in a state of oblivion.
Making my life miserable, in my own opinion.
Being torn apart, is my daily life.
Taking things to heart, causing my own strife.
Day's spent in limbo, to the point of over-analyzing.
Writing myself a memo, my mind is fantasizing.
Being pulled in two directions, is a war of a different kind.
Feelings of defections, messes with the mind.
Emotions are intensified, covered up and disguised.
Showing them, I'm petrified, that would be my surmise.
None of this is admissible, in the land of life's dominion.
Even when permissible, it is just an opinion.
Recognition is a start, cutting the drama with a knife.
It's becoming a real art, disturbing the rife.
The eye's are the soul's window, looking out into to the world.
Listening to the crescendo, my mind is being twirled.
Still I am being torn, being pulled in different directions.
Since the day I was born, living with my rejections.
Torn into pieces, never to be put back together.
The pain never ceases, seems to last forever.
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