There are things
that I can't tell them
I hide behind a false
persona full of life
when really I am
frail and dying
An uncalled for
scream, backlash
bold lip, crack
the whip so I
can learn how
to be something
other than what
I have become
because you
don't like her
The world
does not like
her, and even
she does not
like herself
This illness
is a silent
killer who
whispers
words of
death into
the innocent
ears of the
lonely and
Lifeless.