People say a lot.
Especially when they don’t.
They tell you with their actions.
Not words, as truth telling those alone won’t. Under the costumes, my spirit tried translating the feelings I kept to myself.
The spirit ended up taking on so much pain, it began to resent whoever I became.
Whichever role I called self.
This person who was too stubborn to ask for help.
So I started creating different roles, within this one self.
A God, lover, friend, and enemy.
Whatever the character, it was played by me.
I was silent but these roles were loud and they governed me.
Not one of them was a true image of me.
They were just these scripts being read by me.
There was no hero in my story.
So I became the villain.
For a long time I kept away from any new relations.
It took years to realize the enemy I thought I was running from, had actually lived inside.
How could I have been my best friend, when I was my own demise?
I was a wolf hiding behind human skin, wearing a God complex disguise.
Always pushing myself beyond the human lines.
Running with the white rabbit, I blame this obsessive mind.
Chaos is always on the rise.
Causing me to feel the need to control every part of my life.
Feeding the bad wolf, allowing it to thrive.
Encouraging the enduring of pain, as I am drowning Inside.
What kind of friend am I if I don’t throw myself a line, play my own ….wait that thought doesn’t need to be transcribed.
Smiling with only my eyes.
Written on my mirror ten times: “You are so strong”.
A line fed to me most of my life by wolves hunting blind, in sheep’s clothing.
There am I.
Sierra Mazzucca's Poetry site 
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