Laughter

Does anyone know what rough shape I'm in?
Sure there are, but they are spread thin.
Do they know how tough it is for me
To keep on living in this misery?

I don't want them to know, that's not my style.
I only want them to remember my laughter and smile
Why should they dwell on my clustered thoughts?
I'm not sure if to the surface, I can be brought.

Why would I tell my feelings to others,
When by my emotions I am smothered?
I'm not in the clear, not by any means,
I feel as if I'm about to burst at the seems.

If I should go before my friends think I should
Tell them to laugh about me, even if I was misunderstood.
I'd want them to always think of my laughter;
I want them to think of me and smile, thereafter.