In a cold cold place..
I cry..
Huddled in on myself..
I wrap the darkness..
A little tighter around me..
To hide the fres lines on my skin..
Will they see the red..
Against the pasty pale skin..
No, not with the black shrouding me..
And even if they do..
Who would really care..
I have been walking around..
With a gaping hole in my chest..
Not that they noticed it..
So what's a little blood on my wrists..?..
They walk around me on egg shells..
Their laughter decrease into hushed tones..
When I step into rooms..
The pity in their eyes..
The tentative touches..
The sighs and hesitant smiles..
I feel bad for them..
They dont owe me a response..
Why don't they understand..?..
The worst of all.....