Poems. My storys into words.

...

People don't see the things you go through behind closed doors.
They don't see how certain things affect you
That you struggle with the choice of living and dying.
That you say it would be better to for you to die than have the constant battle with thoughts of suicide.
You don't think it would be hard on anyone.
That they would probably celebrate and throw a party thanking God you're finally gone.
But that's never really how it is.
People would cry and ask why never getting the answer.
But that's not how it seems at the time.
No one tells you they care so you assume they don't.
No one ever really seems to notice the battle that you have with yourself that you feel you may never win.
That you would rather cut yourself out of your own skin than be in a body that doesn't even feel like home.
Hating yourself and wishing to be someone else no one in particular just not yourself.
But no one sees what you hide behind the doors of Your room.