I've been pulled out to sea,
Dragged underwater,
But physically, I am smiling and free.
I smile at family, at friends,
I smile at the world, 
so they will not see
so they will not feel,
so they can go about their lives,
never knowing,
behind the scenes,
a slow and painful death.
I am trapped,
can't catch a breath,
And finally through the surface I snap,
enough to take another breath,
enough to keep going a little longer,
just to be forced under again,
inevitable death prolonged.
And every once in a while,
I yell out,
I cry out,
I scream,
for help. 
And the world sees behind the smile.
As they stand calling,
safe and sound,
on the shore,
still in denial,
"Keep your chin up!" 
"It will get better!"
"I wish I could help!"
"I wish I could help..."
But you can't.
No one can.
And it's not your fault.
And as this realization
comes crashing down,
back to reality,
back to life,
I understand that it is true.
No one can help me.
No one can save me.
No one can make it better.
And no one wants to try hard enough.
There has got to be a way.
A way for someone to help,
A way to dull the pain,
A way to hide the knife,
A way to save my life.
It just takes a lot of work.
Like staying up late on the phone,
Like texting once a day,
Like asking "how are you?"
And hearing the answer through.
No one seems to understand the gravity,
Everyone knows the fad,
They all think I'm dramatic,
That life can't be that bad.
The cuts are for attention,
They never see the tears,
And when I hold the rope,
No one even fears.
So for now I put up a wall,
block out the world
so they can't see me fall,
But everyone needs to know,
I'm not afraid to end it all.


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If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741