Scars, The Ones You Don't See

My scars are all in the mind,
I have no cuts on my fore-arms,
Or any of it's kind.

But the hurt I feel,
The sorrow that presses at the back of my sight,
Wounds in my heart that will never heal.

I have never watched my blood go down my arm,
I have never felt the pleasure of that pain,
I am too weak to cause myself real harm.

Instead, my subconcious terrifies me with dreams,
Instead, I can no longer cry,
And no one is there to hear those screams.

In the dark on my own,
I imagine tearing myself apart,
Watching myself stand in a crowd, yet still alone.

Screaming as loud as I can,
Making my throat sore with the effort,
Yet no one extends their hand.

I never see the sun shine,
The blue of the sky is lost,
Like it was ever really mine.

Will this end?
I can't see the bottom of this chasm,
So I think I will just drop, and land.