Day 8: The Masked Words

It seems that, in the absence of having to forage for food and collecting raindrops in broken leaves, the modern world has had to create new problems in order to fulfill the necessity of conflict in life. At the same time, we as modern humans have had to confront the most recessed and uncharted caverns of the human soul, psyche, and sentience. I'm not sure if the people who occasionally read this page will resonate with this small snapshot I took of myself a few months back, but to be bluntly honest, I haven't really thought of anything original to write about recently, and I also need to take a shower.
So here it is, a little piece I wrote a while back that may give words to those like me who have a pretty dang good life, and still find a way to be frustrated with it.

Automaton:

Somewhere inside me, tears are dammed up.

Holding against a concrete wall of Apathy,

False Bravado,

Fear of weakness.

Even as the words appear on the field of white, I know

That I have pierced a cyst of emotion in the chasm of my being.

Behind the wall of cynicism,

Nonchalance,

Carefree childishness.

There lies a broken man in a deep, deep lake of tears and blood.

Blood that I have yet to shed, and tears that may never see daylight.

I am so mediocre, so blessed, so cursed.

I will never know what true suffering is, and that thought itself gives me pain.

Why, God, Why does nothing cause feeling?

I plead with you for something other than mild

A change for better or worse, I embrace either equally.

This stagnant pool gives me no release, no catharsis.

I cannot cry because I have not reason.

And so I just may burst at the seams.

With tears which will never know cause,

Pain that will never follow blood,

Fear that will never find source,

Sadness that will never be traced.

My God, this Stoicism is my curse.

Welp, that was fun. Shower time.