Am I a comedian or am I the joke?
Because sometimes you laugh when I say nothing
Am I a door or am I a door mat?
Because I feel crushed after I spend time with you
Am I talented or on America's Funniest Home Videos?
Because you applaud for my failures and are silent when I succeed
Am I a friend or an experiment?
So that you can share your conclusions with your friends
If I stopped saying hello how many years would it take for you to say hello?
If I avoided you would you give up trying?
If I told you the truth, would you change your ways? Or is that too Awkward.......
Am I a comedian or am I the joke?

Grief leaves a mark
Invisible on the outside but so real on the inside
They'll ask why did he commit suicide, if he smiled on the outside
They'll see you burnt your hand on the stove, but never know your mother died
They'll ask how you got that cut on your head, but never know when to ask are you "alright?"

When Grief leaves a mark
With long sleeves your scars are easy to hide, but your mind is covered by your flesh. Not so easy to bribe

Sometimes people cut themselves to reveal their marks
Sometimes people cry to heal their scars
Sometimes people express themselves to share their sanity
Yet sometimes people hold their breathe to distract themselves from their reality

When grief leaves a mark
A group of doctors can reach an objective conclusion, but a group of psychologist will leave a subjective confusion

Doctors prescribe medicine that can heal broken wounds, but why can't someone's depression be solved so soon?

When grief leaves a mark
A body will leaves scars and bruises, but your mind leaves memories with a Double-edged sword.
You can taste the bitterness again
You can feel the cold air shiver you again
You can hear the silence consume your soul again
You can smell the dark smell of death again
And you see your friends again

When grief leaves a mark
You'll never understand when it will end
At least with physical wounds you know the plan
Temporary or permanent is never answered
Is this a cold or is this a cancer?

When grief leaves a mark we know we can cope
The less knowledge we have makes us lean on our hope

Under lock and key I carry value
My hinges are closed shut to shelter and comfort my innermost treasure
walls and doors claw my stainless steel exterior to peel away to my deepest core
but for years I have remained the same. But worn.
my screws are lose, I'm ripped from the bottom, and my clammy grip is no longer able to bear the weight.
Some day I may not have a handle, but I can still be carried through as a groom carries his wife to their honeymoon
Still I have remained the same. but change appearance.
I am a collage of tattoos that scar every place I've stayed, every floor I've touched.
often times I remain stationary tugged by a wagon  
rocks evoke earthquakes that make me stumble and gravity has a way of pushing and pulling me in all directions.
As years progress I look different than before, almost like a stranger
but under lock and key I carry value
I have remained the same.