Hate Poetry

there are some things that can only be hinted at in poetry. Here's my shot

The morning sun starts to creep around the ray-blocking shades on the window.
keeping it off me like a toxic ocean in which I don't want to swim
Who hates the sun?
Wake up! Another day of pain, another of pretending.
That I am a real human being, just like you.

But it is different, a silent scream in which
If I let it go
could rattle the windows and pull up the shades
travel to the far regions of the world
combine it with the wail of Africa, the suffering continent

A compromised existence in which
I have to play pretend
If I let it go
would it put me in the hospital for good
would lose the friends who stood beside me

Even though they could not understand

A cripple for all my life?
The days, months, years and decades pile up
All feeling the same
With each therapist a brief hope
Maybe it will go away

Maybe it will go away

But for now I'm afraid
I cannot let out the fear
the sorrow
the pain

pain beyond explanation
beyond comprehension
my companion for 17 years
I give it full attention

Physician, heal thyself
Poet, hate yourself
A scared scarecrow
A screaming skull

There must be some kind of explanation
Why a just God would send to me
the worst kind of isolation

Too afraid to let out the real anguish
Don't want to send the reader
Flying to the light
I'm gone and best forgotten

Gone and best forgot