Beyond the stimulation of the bubble
Of friends, the calling of drink and dance,
Fumbling about in the daylight darkness of
The Real World,
I crawl back inside myself.
Withdrawn in a shell of numbness
Where the stones of boredom, frustration, tiredness
And bounce back into the twilight.
Painted smiles and mundane conversation
Mask a loneliness and longing;
They keep me going
As introversion swallows me whole.
Yet the suffocating folds of night-time
Coax the suppressed tears to
Overflow into the blackness:
Grief for a life long-lost,
And the Real Me
Emma H, 17/10/2016, age 25