Lurking Inside

[scatteredembers]

The head pounds and fingers tighten,
Fleshy palms my irritation frightens.

I am red. Crescents on my skin.

And yet still you do not see,
Those words belong to me.
My mind has no sane to show,
It brands me cold and psycho.

I am crimson. A tint in my vision.

A hot poker label,
Imbedded letters enable.
I lose hope and beg that others do not see,
The frantic creature threatening to expose me.

I am burnt. Branded.

I beg that what I feel is standard,
Lest I will likely be dragged on downward.

~R