Beneath My Sleeve


The words scathing my ears, pouring from your mouth

You assume that I do not understand

But I suppose you haven't taken the time

To see the scars beneath my hand


You don't know my struggles

And do not care to ask

Can you dare to call yourself a friend

If you are apathetic toward the depressed?


Your spineless back turned toward empathy

Never bothering to acknowledge the ignorance of which you emit from your core

You cower behind your desk of solitude

Never seeming to want anything more


The mumbling of your curses beneath your breath

Soaked with remarks, head-nodding phrases

Calling me rude won't fix the problem

Don't try to fit between the spaces


No, don't try to change the subject

Lock your gaze upon my wrath

See if you can find the apathy in my eyes

Or have them travel down to the faded lines beneath my sleeve





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