The pain within cuts too deep
Everyday I'm deprived of sleep
The voices goes louder and stronger
Would I be able to hold on any longer?
Words cut like a knife
Like a blade that shortens a life
Convincing people is what I do
With a mask that hides it from you
You need not to be burdened by me
And I'm sorry I never let you see
The breaking inside of myself
I shove it down like a book on a shelf
To appear like nothing is wrong
When in fact, I have been cracking for so long
I say lies, I should be the biggest liar you've met
Then it piles all up in one mesh of hate
For once I want to be saved
But the voices bind me like a slave
Why do they say things are that so true?
A stupid person like me is gullible to believe them too
Pain. Nightmares. Hate. Love. Bleed.
No one listens to my need
So I walk on, alone with a mask
To convince everyone, that is my task
YOU ARE READING
A Writer's Collection
Short StorySTOP! Good. Now I've got your attention. Open the door. No, not your door. But this door. Not a physical door either. This door is called Story Door. Open it. There is no turning back. Welcome. Didn't say I didn't warn you. -M
