How long can I keep
This charade up?
Everyone thinks I'm OK
Mentally stable
When really my life is at stake
One minute I'm here
The next I might not be
How many people know
But don't care?
Are people scared?
I'm scared that if people find out
The real darkness in me
They'll send me to a therapist
Or worse an insane asylum
I let down everyone I know
My own boyfriend gets mad
When I won't tell him stuff
But if he knew...
I bet you he would shrink away slowly
He would say that he'll always be there
When in reality he really wouldn't
My friend said he'd always be there
But where is he now
When I need him the most
How many times have I gotten told
You can tell me anything
But when I'm actually able to tell them
They're gone
I'm trying to keep up
But its so hard when you're standing
In the middle of a battle field with
Arrows, knives, bullets and more
Flying everywhere
All around
My feet planted in the ground  
Can't move
Why is my life so messed up?
Can't tell anyone anything
Can't even trust my boyfriend
With my thoughts
Can't, can't,can't,
There's just too much
The storm's raving inside and out
Can't escape
My prison is flooding
Soon I'll be dead
But not really
I'll be dead on the inside alive
On the outside
When will I ever escape?
Someone save me
I can't take it anymore
Trapping it all inside
Dead now but yet awake
Goodbye world hello hell
Knives digging in
Someone help me  
Wanting someone to
But knowing that no one will they dont care
I'm gone
The real me is gone
And no one even
Cared that it was there
No one knows the pain I'm in
No one knows the trouble
Coming my way
I'm so close to making
The trade
I don't want to
But its getting really hard.

Waves crash over
The coral in the sea
Everyone sees the beauty
But doesn't realize
They're alive

They are the homes of fish
Sometimes fish leave and never
Come back
And sometimes they leave for a
Couple years and come back

In a way people are like fish
They leave forever or vanish for a little while

The coral, the homes,
They are the beautiful people
No, not the models, the cheerleaders, no
The beautiful are the ones hurting
The ones others call weak,
When they're stronger than most

The beautiful are the ones
Who do their best to look like the models
When they don't need to

The beautiful are the ones with
Scars on their thighs, wrists, ankles, stomach

Which one am I?
I'm one of the beautiful
I'm not being prideful or anything  
I have proof
And it's not fake believe me
There's things that qualify you
As being a beautiful one
As one of us.