Silent Screams

Poem 22

Were my scars even real?
Or were they an illusion
Created simply by my monster?
Were they a feeling?
Do they even exist,
How could I be sure that they did?
And you, my dear, would never know
Because if they were real
They were too well hidden to find
They could be a metaphor
Or they could be oh so real
I could have an addiction
To silver pens and red ink
Or they could be used
Simply as words to make you think
And if you were so sure that
They weren't words
What proof would you have
Because you'll never see them
And if you do
You could be hallucinating too
Because I'm not sure anymore
If they're real
Or if they're just a figment of my mind
And it hurt to think
Even I couldn't decide
Or even worse
That I couldn't admit
To self medicating
Or at least
Feeling like self medicating
In the quiet of my room
While my family slept
And I cried into a pillow
And some nights I can't help but think
Maybe I really did do that
Or maybe it was all a feeling
And not an action
But you would never know
Would you?