People always mention this place called heaven-
A place you can go to after a living hell in
This world I desperately try to cling on to,
Along with society...
Yet society is too judging-
It's not budging.
People always ask me-
"Why do you smile so much?"
"Why do you laugh even though it's not funny?"
"Why do you help people when you can't even help yourself?"
The answer to the posed question is this-
I smile so much because I feel dead inside
And don't want people to know how I truly feel.
I laugh to hide the pain while the cuts on my arms heal.
I help people because I don't want them
To be like me-
Crying into the hem
Of my blood and tear-stained sweater.
