The Secret Addiction


Quiet, all alone, we hide in ourselves, from society, from you.
You see not the pain flowing inside, invisible; our wounds run deep.
Whom do we call? Where to turn to, no one we can honestly trust.
Sleep is an open doorway. The real vision is our nightmare world.
The scars lying atop scars, outer pain bests the inner pain.
You do not see; we paint the half smile on our face.
Faked laughter, we cry for a better tomorrow. It does not come.
We continually kill ourselves emotionally with the whys and what ifs.
More questions than answers we find, driving us further away.
Deeper we crawl into the safety of shadows and darkness.
Devise up with a million excuses, not one of them true.
Sad, scared, and confused we are; we see only one road. pain.
Crisscrossed highways lie upon our skin. It does our talking.
Hot weather is our misery, the icy coldness to us, a godsend.
Crimson is our color, indiscriminately, it befalls onto anybody.
The diamond drops of rain, hiding the silvery tears we cry.
Fair weathered days, overshadowed we are, by the darkened days.
Crystal blue waters stained pinkish red, need to clear our heads.
The pen and paper are with us, for it is our skin and a razor.
You do not understand the complexities; we are numbed, empty.
You admonish and threaten us, driving us deeper into secrecy.
Millions perform this horrifying act each day, in every country--
Self-harm, a secret addiction, it became the way we learned to feel.
Our control, our bodies, it compares not with what lies within.
Know it is wrong, cannot stop, please try to understand us.

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