What did you want me to do when you said that you didn't want to talk any more?
Was I supposed to scream? Shout? Cry? Storm away and slam the doors?
What was I expected to do? Beg down on my knees?
Remind me again why you left. Did I forget to say a thank you? Sorry? Please?
If I had a tumour, a break, a bleed, there would be something for you to see.
But you see, this illness is buried right to the core of the darkest parts of me.
For now I can offer you a strained smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes,
Then bury my face in a pillow at night, so no-one has to hear my cries.
The reason I didn't tell you, is so that you wouldn't leave
I've seen some things in my short lifetime, most of which you wouldn't even believe.
I was trying to spare you, in some way, from the inescapable sensation of grief,
Did you want me to reveal that, every time I see my own blood pool, I feel a small sense of relief?
When you first found out, there was a question as to why I couldn't just choose to be happy,
But didn't you realise that question just made me feel more, well, crappy?
You wouldn't tell a writer to carry on writing if they had broken both of their arms,
So why do you harass others just because you don't see 'any real harm'?
Just because you don't see behind that enormous fake smile,
Does not mean, in any way, that the person is any less worthwhile.
You point out the speck in their eye, though you have a log in your own,
Because 4 in 5 of you will never understand how it feels to be surrounded but yet still feel lost and alone.