I'm still here.
You still hear my voice,
even if I live in my own void.
You've heard the first half of the story,
but not the second.
You say sorry,
to make yourself feel better,
to make yourself seem more human.
You think I don't know what hunger feels like?
You think I'm happy all the time?
Have you seen me swallow?
Have you seen my sleepless nights,
the sunken eyes?
You don't know me,
and you've got yourself to blame.
