you asked if I’m okay and I said, “I’m fine, just tired.”

I could’ve told you everything but didn’t want to burden you—maybe that’s just the way I’m wired.

I turn down compliments; I’m not pretty, don’t say that, please.

I only cry at night when I’m alone; I can never fall asleep with ease.

I bite the hand that feeds me, so that maybe it’ll let me starve.

I think there’s just a hole in my heart, already carved.

and I don’t think it’s ever going to heal, not at this rate.

everything just sucks but I have to suck it up and by myself, carry the weight.