Like a slow growing mold
Hidden in the walls of my house
Maybe you think you are saving us
From the harm of conflict
But I know something is not right
The dank smell of what's unsaid
Chokes me as I try to breathe
Maybe you're protecting yourself
From the sting of my disappointment
But you're infecting our world
I'm woozy from the inconsistancy
Think of how nice an open door is
Sharing vulnerability is a calm breeze
Give me a chance to forgive you
Instead suffocating in shame.