Will It Ever Be Real?


2. I'm the problem

We can look the happiest people in the world
but people can't see what's behind the smiles
the fake smiles
the smile, that can manipulet everyone
friends, theacher even families,
my family doesn't know everything,
they know that I'm sick,
but not what lies behind the tears
the tears brought on at night
I don't even think they would believe me,
believe me, if I told and showed them,
showed then the scars
the red and itchy ones,
the ones on the pics
and the ones that have healed.

Would they believe if I told them,
told them that suicide is at points
the easy way out,
but also the only way out,
out of the hate,
the pain.

It need to stop
because there is no end to the pain
the pain in my head, the voices
voices that tells me, that I'm not wroth it
not wroth living
not wroth loving
not wroth caring for.

I'm just a problem for everyone.

I'm a mess up problem
and by dieing,
there wouldn't be a problem anymore,
cause the problem was me.

I'm all messed up.

I don't get to be happy,
nobody cares.

Would my parsents believe that or just think I'm a problem, like everyone else.

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