But you don't know me,
You don't know my mind.
You don't know my struggle.
Nor could you ever understand my problems.

If I told you about the past when I wanted to die would you be surprised, would you understand when I say I regret all those years I wasted?

The years I can not ever get back, because I let my depression take up room in me.

What if I told you my smile rests on my face,
because I prayed and fought off my inner demons.

That actually somedays my anxiety gets so hard to bear,
that I slowly sink down within myself because I feel the need to hide.

See you don't know me.
You don't know of the times I was called crazy and I was already sad,
and maybe a little mad,
but as I crawled across this inner fire along the way I found a pen,
my escape from this dangerous land.

Until you understand these things and more, and accept them you can't say you love me,
because you don't really know this beast you are supposedly loving.