The Daily Scar

I can't sleep, it seems,
The ache in my heart keeps me awake,
Hush now, dear friend,
How many times must the surface of my skin break?

Be satisfied though,
For the length of my arm is full,
So beautiful is this abstract art,
But its hard hiding it at school.

Others like me,
I have met before,
They're NOT doing it for attention,
Their hearts are truly torn.

Level 3 depression,
In the corner of that room,
At least she's reaching for help,
While I sit in gloom.

I hear things,
Catches of whispers and cold,
My body always aches,
But silence is gold.

I live right under their noses,
Yet they couldn't see,
How much depression,
Was taking its toll on me.

And so I became their punching bag,
In numerous ways,
"I'm not afraid, I just gave up,"
I liked to say.

Self esteem,
Thats lower than low,
Always unsure and worried,
About what? I truly don't know.

My vision starts to blur,
As I grasp for support,
This often happens,
Always without effort.

It spins and it aches,
Then I collapse to the ground.
Few hours later,my friends find me,
And I ask them to shroud what they actually found.