To those of you who say that I am strong...you only say
that because you have not seen me weak.
- You have not seen me scratch and slice my skin as I break down,
wishing there was someone there to stop me, to save me from my
wretched self.
- You have not seen me sprawled out on the train tracks, numb,
but sensing a slight tone of twisted joy.
- You have not seen me force my food up, tears streaming down
because I am guilty, and wasting what others could be using.
- You have not seen me curled up in my bed at 4 in the morning,
when, if I have the courage to chat with somebody, I still mask
things and don't tell the whole truth.
- You have not seen me smash things around in my room as I fight
myself, verbally and physically, debating on if this fight for
nothing is worth trying to figure out.
You have not seen me...if you think that I am
strong.