It doesn't matter how much time
That passes me by
I still can't seem to stop to cry
I never felt alive
Why is it so hard to try?

Will you ever come back to me,
Tuck me in and wipe my tears?
Or will you just stay the illusion
That you've always been?

I will fight alone,
From my birth to my grave,
Always have and always will
Used to the pain, suffering and ache
That's inflicted on me in everyones sake

I won't say no,
My heart is good,
So I can't let go

Forgive and forget is what they all say,
Even when it's not earned in any way

I take a bite
one, two, three
wishing i was snow white
please fall in love with me

but you love the beast
and i have to glue on a smile
wishing i was deceased
won't you consider me even for a while?

if i played dead
like snow white did
bit that apple so red
while my feelings stay hid

would you kiss me
even if you thought chances were nil?

when i wake and you set me free,
will you love the beast still?

I don’t know how many times i’ve had to use a number two pencil.
Whether Ticonderoga or some off brand.
As though number one is something you cannot mention.
As though number one is something too fragile for you.

I don’t know how many ways I could compare myself to a number one pencil.
Other boys and girls prohibit interaction with both of us.
Limited interaction with us is necessary.
It’s as though we have no purpose among this world.

It’s required to use a number two just like it’s required to shut your mouth when you’re seventeen
Adults tell me, “you will use a number two”.
Their voices like thunder enveloping my opinion making it evaporate with all beauty and sense I withhold.

It’s been a repetition.
Number two number two number two.
Number two is used number one so technically number one is number two.
Number two number two number two
Number in all

Number two to my father, number two to my peers, number two in grades, anxiety, depression, the relationships in which they’ve been unfaithful, inexhaustible cravings for escape but suicide will make me number one
So technically, when you’ve sharpened  number twos to their limit, they become number one.

Faking is my specialty;
Didn't you know?
I fake everything,
Everywhere I go!

That smile you saw?
Wasn't that so perfect!
That twinkle in my eye
Was just so terrific!

That laughter at your "joke";
My, that was a performance!
The happiness I showed,
And that stress-free stance!

Everything I do is fake;
Even my own skin.
You don't see the scars;
Neither do my kin.

You don't see the pain
That lies behind my eyes;
You don't see the harm
I'm doing to myself out and inside.

You don't see my suffering,
You only see my mask;
You don't see the anger,
And you don't bother to ask.

No one really wants to know
What's hiding under there;
They only want to know
The happy, sweet, and fair.

No one sees my covered scars,
As new ones start to show;
No one sees my tears,
Nor watches the blood flow.

Why can no one see
Through my smile?
No one's even seen
The real me in a while.

I guess I'm just that good;
It is a full-time job, after all.
I wonder how I shall fake it
When I finally fall?

Raindrops splashed onto my windowpane
And all that can be seen are blurred streetlights
© SilentCry

the bully drew in closer now,
closer... with a single blow,
i was rendered unconscious!
bleeding...
dying...
i felt my pillow upon awaking,
it was wet with tears.
an awful nightmare.