Who Knew

Sat, 12/28/2013 - 21:49 -- Stanson
The glimmer in his smile 
Never seemed to fade. 
But his smile was seen less often
As things began to gray.

He remained to look the same to them
Except the dark circles in his eyes.
But little did they know of the scars
Upon his thighs.

You see he was intelligent 
The razor never kissed his arms.
Instead it cut across his legs
So they couldn't see self-harm.

Days turned into weeks,
As months turned into years.
And slowly but surely
He turned his friends into peers.

As life continued as it does
He was never questioned.
And even if he was, 
He'd never admit depression. 

Always being forced to 
Fit the mold of those he hated.
The scars upon his legs 
Never ever faded. 

He did as they ordered
Yet they were unimpressed.
So he went and found a way
To cope with all the stress.

It all was too much to handle
So he decided to end his crisis.
With one last breath of air
He made his final slices.

For a moment time stood still 
As they all heard the news.
A funeral was planned so they could
Pay their final dues.

They all stood together
Talking beneath the sun.
Saying that they wish there was
Something they could've done.


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