don't tell me that I'm beautiful
until you've seen the marks
etched in my skin,
and the ones on the inside,
on my heart,
that I hide.
don't tell me that I'm strong,
until you've seen me break down,
fall apart,
time and time again,
and cry until the tears no longer come.
don't tell me that I'm a wonderful person,
when I shut you out completely,
and push you away,
because I promised myself,
that you are just like the rest,
and you'll get tired of me, too.
don't tell me that I'm lovely,
until you've seen what nights are like,
and the terror that sometimes possess me.
seen me sob and tremble and question, "why me?"
until I run out of air
and collapse.
don't tell me that I'll get through this,
that this is only temporary,
until you've seen the inner torment,
inside of my mind,
and the demons that refuse,
to be silent.
but if you have seen that other part of me,
the scars, pain, insecurities and bitterness
that I hide,
the voices that whisper during the day,
and scream during the night,
the darkness lurking behind my smile,
and you still stay by my side,
and think i'm truly beautiful,
then maybe.. just maybe.. I believe you.