"Talk to me," they say. But why, day after day, does the pain never stray, it blocks out the sunshine ray after ray, I stand alone in the dark. Yet it's hard to get by, when day after day I sit there and cry, because no one is there to say pretty lies or to let out disgruntled sighs, or tell me that I am good enough. You know, as a teenager your expected to talk about your thoughts; your feelings inside but no one around you you trust to confide, your greatest thoughts in. I'm so tired of being told to stop talking, told to start talking, but if all we do is talk, who is there to listen?