Whirlpool

October 19, 2009
My mind, my heart, my soul, my entire being,
Are equivalent to a river in mid-January,
Iced over and freezing cold,
Presumably serene and content;
But no one perceives the deeper meanings and feelings.
A solid outer layer,
Disguising the tumult of feelings that lies beneath;
The surface, so clear and refreshing
Cloaks the icy darkness that lurks below.
The seemingly impervious top layer awaits,
Silently daring the even the slightest pressure to be applied,
So that its heinous power might be released.
The negativity churns within,
Searching for the tiniest fracture in this perfect disguise,
Preparing to seep out and exploit the naked truth;
The unpredictable whirlpool that is me.





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