It's how I feel all the time. As if I stand alone even when I have friends who care and will defend me, I feel as if I can't trust them. That even though they'll expose their soul, heart and darkest secrets, I can't because they simply won't understand, care, or see how I feel. I'm in a prison and my cell is my mind. My warden is the solitude that seals the pain hidden behind the silver scars I have. Each tear shed is just a sign of weakness I must hide from all because if I show that I'm human, feel, care, love, hurt, and cry, everyone will be disappointed and look down at me. That I can't shred their image of me. That I am strong enough to be their Savior, when in fact, I'm slowly crumbling in the dark. And the only proof of it would be hidden within my art, poetry, and silver mistakes.