just pop
another Xanax

right behind
his back

he doesn't
like the
way

they make
me act,

he doesn't understand
the anxiety
attacks
flashbacks,

or
lack of
the feeling
of security

it seems to
me theres
no safety

doesn't matter
how you
hold it
turn it sideways
or mold it

there's no way
to control
it

I finally
saved up
enough trust

but told
me they
were completely
sold out of it

and every time
I try to build
repair
and believe

somehow the
foundation just
rots like wood
and crumbles like
stone

I'm so alone
I need relief

reflect on
myself
just help...

underneath my
sleeves
I hide
my scars

- I wear them
and some have
faded

some remain
like I'll never be
able to erase them

a daily
reminder
of the loathing
and perpetual self hatred

and they say
I'll make it.
but I see how
it's wearing them down
so I'm just going to fake it

till my smile breaks it
just wishing they would
understand all of this...