Every day I wonder if you see,

the real me.

The me who's ready to break down crying,

who every second is slowly dying.

But you won't ever get to see me broken,

because of the amount of times "I'm okay," was spoken;

because I'm scared of how you'll react

if you saw how I cracked.

Would you treat me differently, like glass about to break

If you knew my life was at stake?

What if I were to reveal

What I really feel,

Would you be able to deal

With someone so hurt they can't heal?

Would you think I'm insane

because I find pleasure in the pain?

Would you understand how desperate I am for a friend,

even though you won't comprehend

how I can't mend?

Since you'll never be in my personal hell,

And go through what it takes to become a shell.

But if I told you

what would you do?