Internally annulled,
       yet eternally expected to go on living as if nothing has happened,
                                                                          as if nothing is wrong.
             I am even expected to give off an aura of happiness,
                                and to draw an appealing smile on my face,
                                        because I am young, they say,
                                                   and should always exhibit a joyful disposition.
                I have to live a lie, it seems,
                        because the price of the truth is too high to pay.
  Annulment, you see, is never meant to be shared.

  I am, therefore, finding it impossible to communicate,
                 and except for a half-full pen and an empty page,
                                                               I have no real friends,
                                  although there are many willing souls around me.
 But what human soul can ever appreciate or comprehend,

                                               the confused words I am continuously vomiting forth?

April 22, 1997