Exit Signs

I've got all these questions.

Some simple.

Some too complex to bring to light.

Too many things swirling like different storms

Coming to the front of the door

Dropping the wind current

Knock me down.

To be surrounded,

I am surrounded,

And they always seem to surround us with their words.

Negative in existence,

The pessimism drips forth like venom on the tongue

Wicked words finding their way to the surface,

And it makes me never want to know any deeper,

Skin deep is enough for me from you.

I can only take so much,

And your skin deep cuts like a razor blade to the chest,

Making patterns as if we were drawing pictures

With our crayons on a cream colored paper

Smearing the color as if it were paint.

You were always a fan of finger painting.

And the chest finds a way to swell with colder air

As the lungs constrict and restrict my words,

And I restrict your words letting you know my ears are full.

My heart is full of your words,

Yet I make you think I did not hear a word,

Because if you knew how deep this cut,

You would know how hard it would be to recover.

Ripping open old wounds with words not well thought out,

Your insensitivity has done you in.

You've been shown the exit sign, and have been left in the dark.