The strength people see is not the real me
Inside, I am soft, broken and weak.
My heart is callused over from fighting the pain,
The trauma continues to play on repeat consuming my brain.
The hurt is easy to hide under a smile
Though, someone seeing through my bullshit wouldn't hurt every once in a while.
Carrying this weight is beginning to takes it toll,
Now even to me, the sparkle that was once in my eyes has become dull.
Hurt is so easily pushed aside
That is, until the other soft emotions start to hide.