Hung up in suspension
it’s like crying in a dark closet.
You’re in a cold little chamber of pain and grief,
but then
a light clicks on.
It’s a light making an equator between heaven and hell,
and there is no such light switch.

On the inside you feel vexed at the world
but present yourself as a reposed well being,
who walks and talks with magnanimous behavior.

No soul knows your true potential.
You’re hiding in your sun-kissed skin,
which acts like a people magnet.
So the people you’re surrounded by
love your fake self
but who are you?
You’re holding back from who your heart desires to be.