When no one is around,
My guard is down.
I scream at the top of my lungs.
I just let myself come undone.
No one knows,
Or at least until they read this poem.
I'm not perfect, I can't keep things bottled up inside.
Everything piling up makes me feel like I mite die.
So the first second I get alone,
Down I go.
Let it all out.
Then I'll have absolutely no doubt.
No doubt that I'll be okay.
Okay for the next day.
It's the bull s*** and the stress,
It's just one over blown mess.
So the moment I get alone, I scream at the top of my lungs,
I let myself come undone.