Cycle

As a kid, i didn’t care about what people said.
But as i got older, i realized what they said meant.
All those mean words created a cloud above my head,
all those words caused the need to vent.

But what can you do when you cant find help?
When you can’t speak your mind you bottle everything up.
Then all the emotions you felt,
makes you cry so you cover your puffy face with makeup

Then you walk into school like everything is just fine.
You put on a smile so nobody sees your pain.
Then you go home to hear your parents complain and whine.
Then your wrists have cuts, once again.

Everyday is the same, like a cycle.
This life has made me endlessly suicidal.