Disguised by imperfection

Disguised by imperfection; geniuses walk among us.

Their tortured minds go unnoticed, while their screams are left unheard – prejudiced against by the societies who are partially to blame for their pain - they wander, and wonder.

The world fears them, because they hold more knowledge of the suffering in life.

The empty words you voice; the fake smiles you force; the feelings you put on.
The charade.

Their eyes burn through your layers, to reveal the true you; even if you don’t know who you truly are.

Like a sixth sense capable of detecting your fears, coupled with an unknown knowledge of questionable motive.

Unstable, emotional, volatile and unpredictable.
Life with the lows is unexpected, and coping with yourself is a tedious task.

To struggle with a hijacked mind can only resemble being at war with yourself.
The demons of tomorrow lay, unconquered. But today - survival. Oh joy…

Logic is overestimated.
Unnecessary clarity is far from wanted, and seldom enjoyed.
Cursed with a gift: life is plagued by these oxymorons.
The bitter-sweet state of clarity shroud in mist.

Being so, mentally, close to extinction - you may say I’m still living.
I say, while bordering freedom, that I am merely existing.