sometimes i hide in the darkness of the privacy that i created. i hide my head deep down from even myself because i’m afraid to examine what may lay there, quietly under a deep roar in the back of my subconscious. i hide and i wonder when i’ll ever get out.
maybe i don’t want out…
maybe i don’t have time to be honest. maybe i find comfort under the lightly veiled light that i’ve succumbed to. maybe i find comfort in the darkness that i’ve created for an audience of one.
maybe i have no time to be patient. maybe i find comfort in the rush that i’ve put myself under. maybe i find comfort in the tomb of pressuring time, in the lightly veiled light that i’ve succumbed to…
i get scared, because maybe.. none of it mattered to anyone, but me…