My wrists are as clear
As my conscience,
But my soul is as black
As another man's heart
Deep inside
Mine is bleeding
But I hide it as well
As others hide scars
But there is one thing
I never hide well
I always put on
A plastic fake smile
Even though it's tough
I live through the pain
Without making it
Hurt more again
I don't have any scars
On the outside
But inside I'm bleeding
But I will not die
I can pretend
That it doesn't hurt
But hiding it might
Make things worse
But there is one thing
I never hide well
I always put on
A plastic fake smile
YOU ARE READING
A Cry For Help
PoetryAll of my "Wonderful" poems, based around suicide and other ideologically sensitive topics, as well as poems about depression, anxiety, and self doubt.
