There's a pain in my chest
It's been there as long as I can remember.
It weighs heavy on my eyes and sucks the energy from
The marrow of my bones
And despite the passage of years, it never gets any better.
It devours the rigidity in my joints and makes me feel
As if I have no skeleton at all.
This is my default state, which is more like a lake
Or a puddle of some observant ghost.
No definition or personality of my own
Just a reflection or an echo of others around me
Whose liveliness and strength is something I admire
Yet am unable to embody with any envy.
I try to take form, and I do what I can
To fit in like the others do so naturally.
I pump adrenaline through my veins and force
Some semblance of substance to fill my outline
But it's only temporary and always fades away eventually.
After enough of these painful trials, I hide away long-term
Than to have to pretend that I belong in the human realm
Where I am not fooling anyone.
To interact from afar and to utilize my talents
To make some sort of lasting artistic contribution
Shall be at the helm in which I traverse
This evanescent existence.