you are silent about your pain, they'll **** you and say you enjoyed it.

When I am sad
I get quiet

simple

Shake a little
on the inside
leaking to my hands

I get sad a lot
Hands shaking so I can barely write
Off somewhere inside
to some distraction
computer, ****, sleep, TV

There are no veins to open
words to fight
drugs to fix

Dying has a long-term contract

When I get sad
I get quiet

simple

My inner child
Is thinking about the inner immigration,
And I have no idea,
Where does it leave me.

I am not thinking clearly.
- Clearly.
- Yes, that's what I am saying.