On the Inside
If someone were to open me up
They would surely understand
The pain I feel inside;
Why I can no longer smile
Or laugh;
The reason I walk around
With my eyes to the floor,
Why sometimes I can’t even speak,
And tears come without explanation.
If I was opened up
You would see
Shreds of flesh
Slashed and raw
Dripping blood
Like strips of fresh meat;
As if someone had hacked away
At me from the inside
Slicing through tendons
Making deep haphazard cuts
Leaving a sanguineous mess
With slivers of yellow-white tendon
Amongst the mass of bright red blood.
My insides
Are like a battle zone
As if an atomic bomb has exploded within.
But,
Stitch me up carefully
And there is no evidence to be seen
I appear whole again
Untouched
Just a weak self sabotaged emaciated body
With haunted eyes
Staring out of a gaunt pale face.
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