People dying all around me,
Suicide, murder, as well as naturally.
All these deaths bring tears to eyes,
Eyes of all around me, but none from mine.

Everyone hugging me and patting my back,
All saying it's not your fault, death happens,
Some saying, 'It's ok, it's not your fault"
As if they are saying it to themselves.

They all say it's ok to cry,
That's ok to scream,
It's normal to need to talk
But that it's not ok to handle it alone.

They ask me why.
Why no tears,
No questions,
No screaming.

They all think I'm calm,
That I'm strong, and independent,
That I don't need anything.
They don't worry anymore about me.

Nobody seems to think,
That maybe I have late reactions,
That I don't cry only when i'm "emotional"
That just maybe, that's the only time my mask cracks

Nobody sees the scars,
Nobody wants to listen,
once they're better.
I'm overreacting to them

All I'm really doing, is hiding,
Burying the scars,
Hiding the tears,
Masking the screams.

They don't notice the reactions,
They don't connect the scars to tears,
All I want is one person to search.

Somebody who understands the pain,
Somebody who can see underneath the mask,
Somebody who will help the scars disappear,
Somebody who stops it, the judgement of my outsides