You can't see the cuts on my arms, but they're still there. You can't see the pain behind the mask, but it's still there. You can't hear what I want to scream at you, but it lurks inside. You won't see the weakness that's hiding behind my eyes. You don't see me in the dark, kneeled and crying, but I do. Isn't it funny how you'll never assume I'm not normal like you?