there's screaming behind my skin
but nobody believes me,
I tell them that someone must have hid a body under my skin,
not dead - very alive
they tear through my skin trying to get out.
and sometimes give up
they leave me in peace for a while
only to come back when I least expect it.

The little person attacks me at night
keeping me awake
begging to be let out
I never do
and so he cries

sometimes this little person almost escapes
and out slips a word or a burst of emotion
then I push them back down
"they must have been put there for a reason?"
or so I hope.

There are times that I wonder
"Who locked this little person away?"
"Why?"
"Who is this fellow?"
but I remain ignorant to the answers

Then one night
the little person stopped begging
I asked what was different
he simply looked me in the eyes and
calmly asked why I kept myself locked away
in the dark.

I was the warden of this poor fellows prison
and I was the one who threw him there.