When I rise

 When i rise each day,

I neatly stuff my pillows with relentless nightmares.

They remind me of my lonely childhood.

Gently I tuck my longing to belong under my heavy blankets of dwindling hope.

Chameleon tendencies shelter me from ridicule.

The masks I wear match my atmosphere.

The masquerade must go on.

Society doesn't get the privilege to see my misery.

Misfit, black sheep, dirty little secret.

A unwanted heroin baby.

Disposed of like trash.

Never been needed, desired or loved.

Reality is I never will be.

I've been force fed hate,

And was told I should be grateful.

Never felt a parents love.

Love was forgien and confusing to me. 

Still is.

That's what God intended for me. 

L. Mack

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