You ask why, but I cant give the real answer

The story cant be heard

No its not correct to say the things that happened

Get personal, 

NEVER! Its inappropriate..

 

But what if my story defines me

What if my story reflects how I think

What if my story is something I carry with me every day

Forced to stay silent

Becuase you might be uncomfortable

 

I cant say that Ive been sexually abused

Or that Ive been called a whore

No, I shouldnt mention my mother died

And definitely not that my grandma died too

You cant know the weight I feel everyday

 

No one must know how worthless I feel

That I feel unworthy to be in a Honor Program

Never! Its Blasphemy to say what happened

Its horrible to say that I made blood leave my veins,

Or that Im far to familiar with the Mental Hospital

 

No, they must all think Im pretty

I must be polite and smile

Its priority to make them comfortable

They must feel I belong

That Depression does not fight with my sanity

 

They cant know the struggle with sleep

Or the scars on my arm

It must never been spoken of the flashbacks or sounds heard

The faces seen, and sins made

 

Words cant be spoken of those Memories

I cant say I was touched or lefted

No I have to work

I need to make them think that I can do something 

 

Everyone has to think I am OK!

They must believe that I dont take medication

They must think that I am normal

I'm a freak if I tell them

I dont belong in their world if they ever know

I must be: The Perfect Student