This is first of two poems I’ve been working on over the last couple of days.  Be sure to read the second here
 

I’m banging on the glass to catch your eye.
Or am I just curled up on the floor?
I beg for you to hear me cry.
Or am I just talking to the door?
Raging within, a storm and a fire,
Somehow a secret hidden by the liar.

Sick of who I’ve been before,
Why can’t I be the man asked for?
A man without fear,
A lover with heart so clear.
Of me, all I plead
Is to open my book for all to read.
How do I get my heart tattooed to my sleeve?

A million words inside do swarm
To come out their only form
Is a disguising drip, a uniform.
Can someone less alone
Show me how my top might be blown
And the words flood out like a cyclone?