We are.

Not strong.
We are, not strong.
We can!
We can not deal.
though you would never guess.
the things on our minds.
Tear at our seams,
ripping us.
yet no one sees
the pain that overflows
with claws so sharp.
they cut vulnerable flesh.
Pink Puckers,
Searing Scars we gain though time.
Will they heal,
or become a blemish that will never fully seal?
Do the masses notice them?
We wear them over our hearts.
We cry.
We cry brilliant blue
The spill over,
threatening to quench the spark.
Once We blazed,
Beacons in the black.
Blank we now stair,
into the depths of hell,
you will find our thoughts there.
Burn brightly they do,
those pits of smoldering fire.
They smolder with the depths of desire.
such passion in the depth of hell do thee see,
We jump,
and we fly,
through the air,
but not to the sky
We can!
We can not cope.