I don't think anyone will ever notice
My movements always subtle,
Everyday, I'd find more interest in the dirt,
I'd suffercate between the fabric of my own clothes,
My self consciousness kills my confidence a little more,
Scars to remind there is no going back,
There's nothing I want more than to run
But I can't- won't tell anyone
As much as I want to
To be pitied, provides no help to my situation
It makes me feel 1000 times worse.
