In this world there are many telltale signs that we can get from a person appearance. The scars that I have aren't only the ones that are buried deep, the ones that were self inflicted, the ones that cut the deepest are the ones that a person whom I used to hold the upmost trust in gave me. No one can see them, for it is only I that can. The deepest secrets left unrevealed, are the ones that aren't just mine to keep.
Abandoned, bloodied, and left with a bruised heart, I have to carry on.
Is it fair? That I have these burdens to carry on, when I didn't even ask for them?
You might be generating thoughts of what I could possibly be talking about, which is fine, but you will never see them revealed. Inside is a hurricane of unresolved notions of mine. Don't feel bad, once in a lifetime someone has to carry the wounds of others, once in a lifetime I was chosen to feel everything and nothing all at once. For shame that it was me, yet at least it wasn't anybody else having to carry these weights. My luck that I have to hide these scars, ever sinking deeper, being engraved into my skin, my mind, my whole essence.
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