The Cost Of Being Known

Every now and then,
I get this urge
to express my thoughts
without a second thought.

But the moment I speak out loud,
the nakedness creeps in.
I feel like a part of me
has been severed,
and I shall never recover
from that loss of myself.

I will never be the same person.
My thoughts are what make me
the person I am.

How can I remove them
like a discarded appendix?
They are not vestigial,
they are me.

How can I trust someone
to accept that part of me?

To accept me after knowing
that I am not what I pretend to be.
I am just an ordinary person
who thinks the absurdest thoughts,
dark and messed up ones
that keep me awake at night.

And I pretend to be fine every day,
just to meet my demons again
in the loneliness
of my heart, of my mind.

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