No one sees the tears I cry because rarely do I cry.
I hold it all in as they fall within me.
You think me heartless and uncaring.
I will admit to being some what narcissistic but never uncaring.
My life is a series of ups and downs that I ride throwing my hands in the air as if care free.
Quite the contrary.
I am a man broken by his own desire to please.
All the while my feelings go unnoticed and ignored until they explode in a fiery cataclysm of miss spoken pain.
How am I to rememdy this behavior which has become second nature.
My buddha nature long gone and invariably destroyed.
Always trying to mend fences I am better off never trying to rebuild.
Such is the nature of my madness.
So be it I say.
The imaginary gun held to my head.
The metaphorical knife dancing gleefully over my exposed heart.
But you look right through me, past me and never notice the tears I am crying for you.
And I never cry the tears that are meant for me.
I chose not to wallow in my self pity.
Instead I wallow in your contempt.
Content to be your left overs.
Only to be reheated when you are hungry for what I have to offer.
This is my life.
I am tired.