For the longest I've thought the worst,
that I was weak,
that I had one choice,
so I didn't speak.

I chose the silence,
and let it take over me,
I hid my pain,
so that no one could see.

I knew they loved me,
but I didn't feel that way,
terrified to tell them,
the one things I couldn't say.

Afraid for reject,
and the treatment I'd recieve,
afraid they would judge me,
and my words not believe.

So I stapled my lips shut,
glued the knife to my soul,
stayed up all night,
playing games inside that hole.

To get covered in scars,
I'll tattoo my body,
one will spell "failure",
and another will say "bloody".

To paint my walls,
from white to red,
perfectly bright,
with the blood that I shed.

Keep it safe,
in my book that I hold,
with my life story,
of how my body was sold.

Don't tell anyone,
hold my secret dear,
for if you spill truth,
they will bring you fear.