I may seem calm on the surface,
But inside my soul a tempest rages.
A maelstrom of sorrow, pain and anger,
That I can barely hold back.
Every mean thing people say or imply,
Even if it's only in jest,
Fuels the already too strong storm.
Sometimes my control slips,
And a little of that force escapes.
What that little bit can do scares me.
Soon I wont be able to keep it back anymore,
And that scares me most of all.
Because I'll be swept away with it,
And there will be nothing of me left behind.
I will welcome death, the end of pain.
What I'm afraid of is the possibility,
That I might not be missed,
Or even remembered,
When I'm gone
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