My body's canvas is scarred and bruised
by the resident artist knowing no other way to communicate

the inward struggle unseen by others
except those who bother to look closely

and those that see though my lies
demand answers I can't give

they want desperately to know "why?"
not understanding what I say

when I tell them that my outside
and my inside don't match at all

it looks so "normal" from the outside
but no one else looks outward from within

they can't see, they don't feel
the chaos and hut waiting just underneath

to surface and silently announce
what I feel inside

and for a brief moment
I match

tkj 6/21/06