Don't belittle your pain.
Don't bottle it up
Unseen
Unless small parts shove
           themselves out
Like a collection of knives
Inside a (breathing, living)
           carcass.
When the knife
Breaks through
With its harsh, sharp gleam,
Don't push it back in
Deeper
Or say it's nothing
(with a pain(t)ed smile).
I see the stains
of denied blood
Against the shine
of cold steel.
And if you say
it's nothing
How can I fix you?