| This poem is probably one of my favorite ones I have found so far Alone No one knows the pain that we hide, they're happy for us to keep it inside, our fear is our own; they don't wanna know, why should we involve them; why should it show you live your whole life in confusion and fear, the need to feel something unbearably near, half of you living, half of you gone, and inside you know what you're doing is wrong The thing's that may help, The thing's that may heal, are the flame or the blade and the sting of the the steel, the destruction of skin means the death of your soul, but there's nowhere to run when you're living alone -unknown |
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