To understand me, one has to go deeper than the surface.
On the outside, I’m glass half full but on the inside it’s completely empty.
On the outside there is a warm rain with the sun just over the horizon.
Inside it rains cold crimson drops with the smell of iron in the air.
On the outside, smiles grace those around me causing mutual happiness all around.
Inside sneers and jeers are thrown at me from all angle, cursing my name.
On the outside I'm some popular kid who has friends.
Inside It’s me with the spare real friend or two comforting the empty inside that’s left.
On the outside, I manage to mutter the phrase “I’m fine” to those who care.
Inside I’m dying and alone but I refuse to allow anyone to worry about me.
On the outside, I seem like a ball of confidence with no fears.
Inside I’m a shut in who can’t stand to see the light of day, yet I punish myself for missing it.
On the outside I’m happy with myself.
Inside I hate who I am, physically and mentally I despise myself.
Why would I hide such a reality?
Behind a dreamlike state where no one can even recognize, let alone find, the real me,
If I ever needed help.
No one could reach me behind the pile of lies i throw, just to “protect” myself?
Protect myself from what?
Those outside who only want to help?
Meanwhile I’m alone inside dying screaming “I’m not fine. Dear god, I’m not fine.”
No one can hear.
No one can see.
No one can do anything to help.
Why won’t anyone go deeper?
But it’s no one else’s fault but my own
How can I expect someone to go deeper, when I lock up anything past the surface?