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The silence,
Was the very worst,
When my words,
Could not surface,
To tell,
What my face,
Had been hiding,
Behind masks,
And make-up.

The numbness,
Was the very worst,
When my words,
Could not suit me,
Did not wear me down,
Did really,
Nothing at all,
But be there,
Without emotion.

The cold,
Was the very worst,
When my heart,
Could no longer pump,
When the heating system,
Was incinerating my skin,
Yet I could not begin,
To fell the heat.

The pain,
Was the very worst,
Knowing it was coming,
Yet it stay out,
As a teenager lacking a curfew,
It made my anxiety rise,
To the point,
Where the only pain I felt,
Was inflicted by self-mutilation.

And you don't wanne hurt yourself, yourself.

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