I close my eyes to make it go;
But it comes back again.
scares me more than a nightmare.
I open my mouth to scream for help,
only to find out that I have lost my ability;
to repair.
I try to smile and I succeed,
I have glued that mask to turn myself into a breed.
A breed which knows how to survive,
But is broken inside like an old toy.
I know I am damaged goods but I know it not just enough.
Enough to pull myself up and try.
I just don’t feel anything at all,
All those emotions are nothing more than a blur.
And I think I am even less,
I feel like I am the unintended blot of ink;
A crumpled paper at the bottom of the bin;
A failed attempt at an art;
I just want someone to look at me;
And tell me it’s alright before I set myself free.
I just want someone to be there,
While I fail at every attempts to repair.
But I know this and so do you,
I would never be the same again,
“Normal” is what you call it.
I would always have those creases and those scars,
I will always wake up and sweat for hours;
I will be not more than burned ashes,
I would still have mask,
A piece of me will always remain torn;
I will never truly move on.