surface

I ooze goodness
atleast i think I do, I believe I do
and that belief makes it all come true
and most people happen to think so too
except sometimes.

sometimes things bother me
a little, and sometimes it gets worse
and worse, and pretence is such a curse
that pretty soon I'm mumbling sinister anger under my breath
and I try, but my patience reserve has reached its death
and I still stop myself from being myself
because things bother me sometimes.

And its a nuisance, really, to let it all go
that isn't constructive, and believe me, I know
but the world's like that. You don't really have to show
people how you feel. How tiny, miniscule things get pricky
inside and how dealing with it, smiling, is more than tricky.

So sometimes I shut up, fade out
but the boiling continues, it won't burn out
and sub-consciously I'm seething, because people don't get
that people sometimes get affected by the things you've done or said
however little, those rocks do create a rubble
and before you know it, i've burst my good bubble

and i say things I never meant to say
and I absolutely ruin my own day
because truth is, I think i do possess goodness
and any negation of that makes me feel helpless
and that lava explodes, it steams me up
and I become someone else.

Three hundred and sixty four days,
of the nice me. But i always lose it on that one remaining day
and now its many, many more days a year
is this what I've become? That's my constant fear
because truth it, I used to ooze goodness
and now, its way below the surface
and I think its time I look for it, and bring it back to life
My lava needs to make way for the me that's right.