I sit alone; insecure and silent.
I am not who I want to be.
My fingers tremble, empty and frightened,
The world surrounding seems worry-free.

And I feel cold and lost and unnoticed;
This is not how I wish to live.
Trapped by their confidence- my enemy,
I feel I have no good to give.

Joy and laughter is what I see: but me,
I am unhappy with my life.
Haunted by abuse, panic and anger,
My soul's one friend is blood and knife.