It’s an inability to breath correctly,
Convincing yourself if you hold your breath the pain will no longer be in your chest,
just in your head like the rest,

It’s when you can’t go to sleep because your bed is the only place the pain can say what has to be said,
Regardless of what you want to hear,

It’s the looming fear,
That one day you’ll break,
They’ll say something and you’ll ache,
Till the part of you that said “I’m okay” forgets to speak and the part that said all those cheesy Hallmark “lift ups” reek of your own sadness,

It’s being in a battle that you cannot win
they say it’ll be alright,
Then they take the knife out of my back they put there when I tried to fight,

It’s seeing something on t.v. that’s usually meaningless to me,
And crying because despite what other’s see,
It reminds me of who I used to be

It’s a constant slip,
The mouth. The eye roll. The anger.
They all inevitably come out,

When you try to be quiet all the time eventually you’ll shout,
and everyone will think you’ve lost you lid,

No… You say… This is just being worn thin.