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 from 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 you see.  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 give it to me anyway anything to flee.

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 just that, your ignorance. In a generation, where it’s a choice not a valid excuse. It makes me weak.

Terrified, it doesn’t come close.
My mind scares me, the power it seems to have.

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 live each day hoping I do.

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