Floodgates

I buried my feelings deep within the recesses of my mind,
Hoping that by not acknowledging them
They would somehow cease to exist.
But my wounds, raw and blistering, festered.
They feigned docility at times,
And obediently throttled my attempts at dissent.
But when angry, they would poke through the delicate film
That held together the shards of my mind,
Letting my feelings gush out,
Not as poetic words, weaving the pain and sorrow
Into incandescent streams of thought
That would reflect some of the pain that others surely felt.
Not as jagged barbs that would surely drive home
The validity of my grievances.
But as mute, glistening tears.

And others would see only my weakness, my frailty.
They would not see the scars that formed a fortress around me,
Allowing the occasional river to flow
While keeping the floodgates tightly shut
Clasping the ocean firmly within its breast.

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