Shrug it off so you don't cry.
Inside, you hope soon you might die.
The window calls and you come near,
but though death seems probable, it's "the hell" you fear.
So you give a cold shoulder to tears and pain.
You numb your feelings and your shirt's blood stain.
You pretend to not notice and say,"whatever."
But inside you're hoping death is closer.
You try to stay calm and make life simple,
yet every one thinks you must be gimple.
You stay out of trouble just to make through the day,
so to maintain your image you can never be allowed to play.
Sometimes you laugh the pain away,
but no one can see your smile decay.