i am one of the

'untouchable'

people,

the ones you

never talk about,

the ones you

walk on eggshells

around,

because you

never know when

they're going to

explode.

the feeling we

get isn't

sinking slowly or

feeling like your

guts are torn

open,

it is much,

much worse.

my eye sockets

don't see

material things,

they see

betrayal,

they see

frustration,

they see red.

my hair isn't

smooth

or like a long,

black ocean,

it is a tsunami

which wrecks

it's own home.

my head

isn't a safe space,

it is a cage and

i am it's prisoner,

it is the home

to the monster

within,

it is the place

i am most afraid

to be in.

my forehead

isn't plain,

there are words

engraved into

my skull

which only i

can see.

my nose

doesn't breathe,

it forces itself

to go through

another round

of survival.

i don't take in

your polluted air,

i take in the

weight of your

words and the

scoffs behind my

shoulder.

my cheeks

aren't red because

of a giddy feeling,

they are the

markings of a

war from within.

my lips,

they are the

swords which slit

the hearts of

any soul trying

to deceive me,

trying to

take me out of

my misery.

my throat

speaks brutal verses,

which sound

like a knife scratching

glass.

my chest

rises in agony

and falls in guilt.

my heart

pumps hatred for

myself within

my veins,

pain latching itself

onto every artery

and foulness

spreading in my

blood.

my hands are

bound to ropes of

disappointment,

my fingers

laced with lies.

my wrists

split by

self destruction,

the red liquid of

foulness from

within.

my legs

walk the path of

a lost traveller,

trying to

find the warmth

of love beneath the

masked faces of

bitterness.

my bones

do not break with

metals,

they disintegrate

into pieces of

sacrifice by

the impact of the

words cutting

my muscle,

evading itself onto

every cell,

every freckle and

every single scar.

my soul is

trapped inside my

hollow body.

every piece

of skin sliced open

is the proof of

me, being a survivor.

the world is

a great place,

it has love,

peace, happiness

and justice.

lies.

the world is

a dome of souls

hungry for attachment,

sucking off of

attention.

the poisons they

feed us encircle

our bodies,

until we start to

believe them.

the world is ugly,

it is a war

which is fought

by everyone,

but the enemy

is their own self.

there is no

real enemy,

only the people tearing

the pages of

the lives of other souls,

whether their

choice of weapon

is metal or words.

there are

monsters,

those souls who live

by taking souls

but there's also

the ones who push

themselves into a pit

of guilt so they

end up taking their

own souls.

the ones pointing

a finger at

themselves,

afraid of their fatal

sickness

and the ones

pointing a finger

at others,

afraid of the

truth untold.

then there's the

'untouchable'

people,

the ones you

never talk about,

the ones you

walk on eggshells

around,

because you

never know when

they're going to

explode.

it is a dome

of people,

pointing a finger,

at themselves

or others,

pleading to be

loved,

begging to show

that they are

worthy of affection.

isn't it funny how

some people

are said

to be dead

but they are

alive in our hearts,

and that is

something believed

by everyone,

but some people

yell that their

own body

is alive, but their

soul is dead,

and no one believes

them?

there are souls

who live without love,

and there are souls

who convince

everyone they are

loved,

the question is -

are they trying

to convince

others,

or themselves?