Others see the happiness shine through her eyes,
yet they know not of the sadness that lies within them
They see pink lips full of smiles,
oblivious to the screams they let out at night
They know her as perfect,
Beautiful,
Intelligent,
Kind.
But what do they really know?
Do they know about the knife?
The blood?
The nightmares?
The anxiety?
Her breath is a struggle,
Her hands are coated in sweat,
Her heart is pounding out of her chest,
She's dying.
She's dying inside,
But no one can tell,
No one can see the depression.
What do they care?
Would they care if she took one pill too many?
If the blade cut too deep?
If the rope was too tight?
Would they grieve the death of a friend,
or gossip about tales of a suicide?
They wear a blindfold,
shielding their eyes from the truth,
But her blindfold was torn off,
Her eyes exposed,
She wishes she could take it back,
If only...
