just stuff She doesn’t understand what I put up with while she’s gone

The stresses of my life

All the pain I have building inside me

I may be excellent at pretending that I’m ok

But I’m really not ok, ever

She thinks I’m an angel but she really doesn’t know me

She doesn’t know how I hurt inside

How I feel neglected

How I feel abandoned by all those who are supposed to be there for me always

She doesn’t know about the scars

Made from knives and scissors on my wrist and ankle

She doesn’t know the tears I cry