I scream too loud, I speak too fast,
Pretend the hurta a ghost long past.
But every smilea a paper mask,
And peace, a thing I cannot ask.

I've learned pain can keep me safe,
A twisted friend I still embrace.
If I can cut with words, with eyes,
Then maybe they wona hear my cries.

I push them back before they see,
The ruin thata encompassed me.
Ita easier to make them ache,
Than show the cracks I cana unmake.

I never meant to be the storm,
Or shape my love in such a form.
But bleeding hearts cana hold their own,
and so I cut to not bleed alone.

When the night grows still and deep,
I wonder if Ia e earned my peace.
I ponder if theya ever stay,
If ever I could stop the dismay.

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Phaestian, in the year 989 AF.