Internal Cries | a poem

I’m standing in the middle of the whole party,

casually rocking my body to the beat of the song playing in the background.

Surrounded by humans, it feels stuffy,

engaging in lively conversations I cannot comprehend.

Attending social events is something society deems healthy,

for those who are at least a little bit wealthy.

Not the wealth in money,

but the wealth in luxury,

luxury to be able to engage in small talk,

even when there is nothing to the most lark.

My head spins wildly,

making constant trips to the restroom,

just to escape the situation,

a situation which seems shallow and normal,

but yet so deep and abnormal.

My cries are deafening inside,

but silenced on the outside.

My limbs have dropped to the ground inside,

but it is still intact outside.

I’m trying hard to find someone,

someone who I would be able to be with,

someone who I would feel comfortable with,

someone who I would be able to start a conversation with,

someone other than myself.

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