The withering pain

I cry, but no tears come out

the trail of tears has ended

thousands are dead, will I be next?

The changing of desperation has fallen,

time for the hurt.

I weep, but no sounds escape.

I sit in silence for the time being,

The silent screams coming from my throat are aching to come out. Get out!

I write, people listen, but they never think of the words and what they mean. No one ever does. Nobody ever will.

I can't believe I am wasting my time, when no one cares. Anymore. If they ever did. 

I cut, the blood runs thicker.

I can control it, but as the blood flows out, I grow weaker. I can't take it, I slice but it's not enough. It never was. I am supposed to be better. Smarter. I need bigger, but silent. 

I can cover scars and maybe one day have enough guts to go deeper, and... closer... to the final destination... 

I cry myself to sleep as I lay in the darkness. Laughter filters in from the other side. If only they knew about the blade that sliced my wrists. 

I cover up in the morning. Time to put on the mask again. Pretend to smile. All day. I'm crying inside. Screaming. Wanting someone smart enough to realize the truth. I don't even know me. Who is she? 

Everyone around me knows more about ME, than I do. That's messed up and wrong, but aren't all Americans messed up and wrong?

The society is wrong, I am just another depressed fake in this world of lies. Trying to get by. No one would care if I was gone, nobody would notice,

I am just one less mistake they would have to deal with.

Would anyone really care?... 

I don't think so...