Sometimes....

Sometimes...

I wish it was caused by substance. 

I wish it caused by the drink. 
Or the music. 
Or all the pleasurable things 
that a man can do 
to cause him his erratics.  

But in truth 
I am not like most men. 

Some call it a gift, 
I know I do at times 
but at other times its a curse 
to know for sure 
that it is your faults at play. 

Triggered by the simplest things. 

A messaged unanswered. 

A voice not spoken. 

Distant faces in a crowd. 

The feeling that a wall that everyone but I 
can penetrate. 

A word or a memory 
that carries the scares 
that were at the cause of self-discovery. 

People say they can listen 
but I can tell its hard. 

No one really wants to hear internal suffering, 
to see the monsters and open scares of the mind 
hidden at first behind warm smiles,  
for it is the hardest to relate. 

And at our age 
no one can handle the truth 
that this world is a lot darker 
than I like to say it is.