it’s funny how something so incredibly stable
can turn to chaos in a matter of seconds
the silent chaos
the type that shatters you inside until nothing but the memories are left
the memories your trying so hard to forget
that are now etched onto your chest
that’s the worst kind
the silent type
because no one knows what’s happening
no ones aware of the damage you endured
of the loss you felt in that moment
of the hands you see on you whenever you look in the mirror
of the hours you spent arguing with yourself on wether or not to speak up
the internal dispute, fighting with none other than yourself
which you eventually lost
the weak side in you always prevails doesn’t it?
kicking past the door of possibility wherever you step foot