Can you see my ever-bleeding eyes
Or the scars underneath my sleeves?
Do you see my dark-painted skies or my flooded heart?
No, but all you see is a smile drawn on a face with no feelings,
And a person who is not happy with who she is.
Crumbling to shreds under sheets,
I thought medicines and therapy would help at least.
Turns out, I have only gotten better at pretending,
So what people have to know is nothing is ever as it seems.
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