My Cloak

I have a cloak,

it keeps me safely in its silence.

There are many words 

yet no voice. 

This is 

the hardest conversation I've ever had

and yet I have not had it.

And now it is a thing. 

I begin 

to realise 

that this is what I do 

and I have done it until there are no words 

only thoughts, 

and around and around they go. 

They pile up so there isn't any room left, 

falling over themselves in a crush to get out that blocks their exit.

So.

  

What am I afraid of? 

It all comes down to fear... 

I am afraid of what I feel. 

Afraid of what might be felt because of what I feel. 

Of being misunderstood, 

that I can't explain. 

That I will say the words and they will be untrue, 

because sometimes it is hard to know what is real. 

That I will have to explain this too. 

I am afraid 

of the anger 

or sadness 

or judgement 

that my words may bring upon me; 

at hiding I am a master. 

For I have a cloak. 

I wrap it around me, clutching it close, to keep me safe. 

But my cloak is constricting, 

it's grip tightens, 

it's fabric decays 

it is falling away

and soon I will be exposed.

Reviews

[OldAccount]

That is deep, and so true. Sad, but the truth for so many of us, and certainly for me. Really great poem, the flow and feel as great. Very well done!