She’s just below the surface,
the other, the one who screams,
cries, rants and rages.
The one who looks at you with disdain,
patience wearing thin, about to snap.
She’s just behind the smile,
the calm words, the placating touch,
the loving patience, the helping hand,
the “I’m always here for you”.
She’s just around the corner,
waiting, watching, judging,
analysing, criticising, calculating,
looking for any excuse.
She’s just skin deep,
Hidden behind the veil of social niceties.
Worn too thin, too tired,
An old woman watching
© Annie Whitehead 2015
Written in response to Poetry101: Day 9 Camouflage
Image copyright – The Scream, 1893 by Edvard Munch
I must admit that writing this caused me quite a lot of angst. Too easily we forget our demons. Mine, bred from years of struggling with depression and suicidality, still manage to catch me off guard from time to time and scare the shit out of me.