Locks on diaries became chains on hearts,
We replaced crouching over our words to shield them from offenders eyes,
With pulling down our sleeves, and muttering those empty words ‘I'm fine’
No more scraped knees and crocodile tears,
We have matured, with new gravel grating against our fragile skins,
We cry internally now, gasping for air,
Those scrapes come from blades, and scars from burns,
But some things still remain,
The way that people tell us ‘you’re overreacting’, ‘you’ll be fine’, ‘get over it’.
Of course we won’t,
The way we once sniffled and moved on was a product of childhood bliss,
We’re trapped in cages built from our own self-doubt,
Every breath takes effort,
Every smile is forced,
Thoughts of possibly being happy bring tears to our eyes because we’re sure,
We will never be.
Nothing is certain or stays,
Life fades and everything around us decays,
We will not get over it,
We will not forget it,
But We will move past it.