The Strong Need Help Too

 

Your strong. You can handle this. You’ve been here before.
Even the strong become weak.
 Battles wear you down. Age you, steal you, hide you away.
 I’ll Always be there for you.
Will you be though? Even for the worst of the worst days?

You don’t look sick! You must me doing great!
Glad you like my make up. It’s a panic attack and a dosage of medication later.
 I’m a professional.  Paint that face, smile for the crowd, wipe those tears away.
 Hide that darkness that lies so deep within until your alone at night and the dark creeps back in.

Do you think that’s gonna help?
 No properly not. But if I can escape this hell for just one day then I will.
 You would too if you were battling this long, with more questions than answers everyday.

But what’s the problem?
 Your ignorance is.
Don’t talk or preach to me about something you do not live with.
The root of all this evil is ignorance. In a generation, where it’s a choice not a valid excuse.

Terrified, it doesn’t come close to how I feel. These labels I must wear, wear me somedays.
They’ve worn me down. To someone I don’t know anymore. Will I ever meet that girl again?
I really hope so.

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