Stuck

{too much stress or not enough ability to cope with it. I have always wondered why I was so sensitive and whether it had to be a bad thing}

Let's pretend
I didn't write this

let's pretend
you don't know who I am
and let's pretend
you won't be reading it

I have no place to hide

My head is filthy filled
by a fog of nauseating mist
by a hate for a life that hates me back

I have a rage boiling silently
under the coats of fabric
under the flesh and the skin

I want an out from all of this
and there is no escape

I feel as stuck as I feel weak

Giving up or giving in

I can't seem to do either
I keep stayin' stuck in between