No one really understands how strong they are until they feel pain.
Pain brought on by others, sure.
But pain brought on by oneself.
Ink by ink and bone by bone,
We write our own rifles
To shoot our penned images down with.

Don't feel as if you are alone.
How many views do you have?
How many witnesses are there
To your black stained suffering
That could turn to red any moment?

Who knows.
I know.

I know the silence a written page can scream
Louder than any thoughts and any people.

Just know that no matter the lack of comments
No matter the absence of physicality to hear you
Your pain
Is being read.