This is a poem that came to be while I was doing homework.
No one can ever see the pain that we hide inside. They do not see the pain that we are forced to swallow every day. Our fear is our own; they don't want to know about us. Why should they be involved? Why should we show them what we must deal with each day of our lives?
We live our whole lives in confusion and fear. And yet they still don't care. Inside we are being torn apart each and every day. And yet they still don't bother with us. Half of us is alive but another half is dead. We all must live with the feeling of disgust to ourselves. And they don't shed a single tear...
The thing that can help, the thing that can heal. Are the flames or a blade and the sting of the steel. The destruction of skin, the shed of blood symbolizes the death of a part of your soul. With each slash, with each burn you lose a part of your soul.
And yet....the pain is still there ......the feeling of being Alone......
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Reviews
Wonderful dark, write. As I felt two things, 1. you're seperated as personaltity in this write far away from your love... and feel not understood, 2. you're writing and describing a schizophrenic double personality. Mmm interesting, as your words flow briliantly across the screen! ;) thank you for this write! really!
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