A box,

filled with heartbreak, wounds,

not to be shown to anyone.

Making each a victim,

some worse than others.

A fight,

within oneself,

not seen by others,

whether they admit it or not.

A world filled

with torture,

no matter the form.

In consequence,

we hold onto ourselves,

without the help

or understnading we need.

To be loved again, by ourselves.