I cry out night after night, day after day, because you tell me actions speak louder than words. Inside I break apart day by day, minute by minute, a piece of my heart gets chipped away.

You see me smiling but you do not see me crying. You see me while I’m crying, you laugh and I laugh, but I laugh just to make you happy. I do not laugh because I am happy. Happiness is a distant stranger.

The question you are not asking is why I cry alone, why I hide my pain, is it due to who I am? Do you see me only as a leach, a stranger, a problem? Is this why you care not about my feelings, leaving me out in the cold, alone, and abandoned? Is this why I am destroyed “intentionally”, so you say?

Chains are connected to the edges of my heart, screaming out in agony as you turn the wheel, ripping my heart in two. You tell me to cry a river, yet I cry an ocean, you stop me from cutting my wrist but you cut my heart into many pieces.

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