I wonder.
How many pills,
Or cuts,
Or "accidents",
Or breakdowns,
Or panic attacks,
Or bad days,
Would it take to prove,
I resemble a tree.
I look strong on the outside,
But when a part of me snaps,
Inside.
There is nothing left but my rotting years.
I wonder.
How many false smiles,
Or days spent alone,
Or "running into trees",
Or crying myself to sleep,
Or saying "I'm fine",
Or hiding my true feelings,
Would it take to prove,
I resemble the ocean.
I look calm, and beautiful.
But the second it starts raining,
In my head.
This calm serene place becomes dangerous, deadly.
If i would be to cry
Would I be to die
Would you even care?
