Who I am is Incomplete

It's hard for me to speak when who I am is incomplete.

I'm drowning in deceit and all the sounds come out so meek that it's a wonder that they seem to hear anything at all from the words that fall like spears from my heart into the walls, or the floors?

I don't really know anymore. I try not to show it but I'm exhausted and this poet seems to never have enough words to say to display the vast emptiness and dismay they have inside. My mind divided; I've decided that I'm lost …