“How were we supposed to know,

When she didn’t ever tell us?

How could we have seen the pain grow,

If she always refused to discuss?”

 

Well she may not have said a word,

But she showed you in so many ways.

It was tucked in her vision blurred,

As she cried her nights away.

 

It appeared with all the dirty laundry,

That was scattered all over her floor.

And shoved down in the constant tear stream,

And all of the tasks she would always ignore.

 

She had practically yelled it,

When she would lock herself away.

Behind closed doors her numbness all hit,

Was that not a clear display?

 

Was it not obvious when she hadn’t smiled in weeks,

Or when her head always pointed to the ground?

Couldn’t you see it in the tears streaming down her cheeks;

To make sure her heart wouldn’t drown?

 

Had she not told you when she always skipped meals,

And when her head would feel like it was on fire?

Not to mention how she always seem to be asleep,

But still somehow managed to be tired.

 

Was it not clear when she always “had a rough night”,

And all that sadness finally turned into rage;

But then it just seemed that she was crazy, right?

“Oh she’s just going through a phase.”

 

You seemed to notice her grades slipping,

And all the selfishness that grew.

You told her you missed that little girl,

But don't you think she missed the old her too?

 

Maybe if she had it in her to shout,

And scream all the thoughts in her brain,

Maybe then you wouldn’t have this ignorant doubt,

And you could’ve saved her from all of the pain.

 

…

 

Now her lips have since turned blue,

Her skin cold to the touch.

And all that guilt lies with you,

How you could’ve helped so much.

 

You see, “How were we supposed to know,

When she didn’t ever tell us?

How could we have seen the pain grow,

If she always refused to discuss?”

Well she may not have said a word,

But she showed you in so many ways.

It was tucked in her vision blurred,

As she cried her nights away.

It appeared with all the dirty laundry,

That was scattered all over her floor.

And shoved down in the constant tear stream,

And all of the tasks she would always ignore.

She had practically yelled it,

When she would lock herself away.

Behind closed doors her numbness all hit,

Was that not a clear display?

Was it not obvious when she hadn’t smiled in weeks,

Or when her head always pointed to the ground?

Couldn’t you see it in the tears streaming down her cheeks;

To make sure her heart wouldn’t drown?

Had she not told you when she always skipped meals,

And when her head would feel like it was on fire?

Not to mention how she always seem to be asleep,

But still somehow managed to be tired.

Was it not clear when she always “had a rough night”,

And all that sadness finally turned into rage;

But then it just seemed that she was crazy, right?

“Oh she’s just going through a phase.”

You seemed to notice her grades slipping,

And all the selfishness that grew.

You told her you missed that little girl,

But don't you think she missed the old her too?

Maybe if she had it in her to shout,

And scream all the thoughts in her brain,

Maybe then you wouldn’t have this ignorant doubt,

And you could’ve saved her from all of the pain.

…

Now her lips have since turned blue,

Her skin cold to the touch.

And all that guilt lies with you,

How you could’ve helped so much.

You see, she was not beautifully broken,

But rather ripped to shreds from the inside out.

Her uprooted genealogy left her tree less oaken,

And now her “clarity” doesn't seem to sprout.

But her past was an armor she could not take off,

No matter how many times you told her the war was over.

For she never had the chance to be soft,

As she awaited for that closure.

And damaged people are dangerous,

They know how to make a home out of hell.

And just to add to their sorrow as a plus,

They smiled in the face of that fire as they fell.

Behind every strong person,

Is a tragedy that gave them no choice.

And you’ll see the burns in her armored past,

As she slowly left her pain unvoiced.

See there are different ways hurt yourself,

Than the ones that only leave scars.

So when she knew the day when nobody could help,

She lit herself as the blunt end of her life’s cigar.

And they say that time heals all wounds,

That in years time we will forget they ever hurt us.

But nobody ever cares to distinguish between the scars:

The ones left on accident versus the ones left on purpose.

When she was a child, she needed protection,

And instead was given a box of matches and a knife.

So when she finally sparked the fire of her recollection,

It only made sense to choose death over life.

At times she needed to scream,

But when you have no voice you must unlearn.

And she might not have liked the color red as it gleams,

Until she knew what it felt like to burn.

I’m not really sure why you’re still hoping,

It’s not like your hope will bring her back in keep;

It’s more like you stopped saying goodnight,

But she never awoke from her sleep.

Yet they say actions speak louder than words,

But I don’t know if that’s true.

For how can she be so invisible,

When she always had been showing you?

she was not beautifully broken,

But rather ripped to shreds from the inside out.

Her uprooted genealogy left her tree less oaken,

And now her “clarity” doesn't seem to sprout.

 

But her past was an armor she could not take off,

No matter how many times you told her the war was over.

For she never had the chance to be soft,

As she awaited for that closure.

 

And damaged people are dangerous,

They know how to make a home out of hell.

And just to add to their sorrow as a plus,

They smiled in the face of that fire as they fell.

 

Behind every strong person,

Is a tragedy that gave them no choice.

And you’ll see the burns in her armored past,

As she slowly left her pain unvoiced.

 

See there are different ways hurt yourself,

Than the ones that only leave scars.

So when she knew the day when nobody could help,

She lit herself as the blunt end of her life’s cigar.

 

And they say that time heals all wounds,

That in years time we will forget they ever hurt us.

But nobody ever cares to distinguish between the scars:

The ones left on accident versus the ones left on purpose.

 

When she was a child, she needed protection,

And instead was given a box of matches and a knife.

So when she finally sparked the fire of her recollection,

It only made sense to choose death over life.

 

At times she needed to scream,

But when you have no voice you must unlearn.

And she might not have liked the color red as it gleams,

Until she knew what it felt like to burn.

 

I’m not really sure why you’re still hoping,

It’s not like your hope will bring her back in keep;

It’s more like you stopped saying goodnight,

But she never awoke from her sleep.

 

Yet they say actions speak louder than words,

But I don’t know if that’s true.

For how can she be so invisible,

When she always had been showing you?