Of a perfect me

About how people sometimes see what they want to see and not what's really there.

I can feel it
piling up and finding the dam
I fight to break down but fight harder to keep up
crying and screaming while smiling and being
pulsing and aching
prying it open to feel what is resisted
i'm fighting for something
but I am a rebel to my own cause
I am nothing and everything
am myself and everyone
whoever I am
wherever I am
that's all I am
all I can be
no matter how hard I fight
passive and stoic
I am not here
just the figure you see
hidden in your dreams
of a perfect me.