tiptoe

I’m hiding something

But I don’t know what it is.

It’s screaming inside of me

Itching and scratching within my skin.

All around me are eggshells

And all I do is tiptoe - tiptoe,

But then maybe one day

I’ll crush them all into a dust so fine

It will be like a mirror.

And I’ll see myself so clearly and I’ll breathe in deep.

The air won’t catch in my lungs because my ribs won’t be a cage

And the buzzing in my head in my blood in my soul;

It will be gone and I will be me.