It was never directly frowned upon

It’s just what we grew up with

If we don’t talk about it

It’s not there

Besides

Everyone gets sad sometimes

It’s part of life

Think of it as a little scratch on your skin

It will heal

All by itself

Touching it makes it worse

Things like that will go away

If we only leave them be

Touching it will make it worse

If you pick a scratch

it’ll open up

blood will appear

and scars will form

Leave it be

No one ever said it of course

They didnt have to

And they couldn’t

For even that would be picking the scratch

Just leave it be

It’s how they always dealt with it

And it’s how their parents dealt with it

If we don’t talk about it

It’s not there

It’s out of love

I’m sure

They want me to thrive

To never be in pain

And they want it so bad

That they would do anything

to keep up the illusion that I am

and always have been

fine

Yet here I am

Not that

Despite all their good intentions

For I have no scratch that I pick

Only a gaping wound of rotting flesh

That is being saltet by the words that they are hiding in their chest

If we don’t talk about it

It’s not there

But it is

So I will talk about it