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Altercation
I won't leave and let them see
the pain that seems constant.
I cried last night, but it was momentary.
These scars show themselves
as a memoir of past mistakes.
Now, they influence all,
and I hurt those that are undeserving.
He sees and hates,
but never truly loathes.
They don't understand what lies behind the mask.
They never will.
We all have a mask of pain that we hide from people in plain sight. It's almost as if they can hear us screaming from within our minds for help, but the screams to them are whispers, and the whispers are enough. To deal with another persons inner demons is almost worse then dealing with your own. To live in the past is to feed the fire, but to try and move on quiets them. The mask becomes more paper mache than porcelain; less temporary. I may not know exactly what you're emotions were when you wrote this, Stac, but I know that I've felt emotions that would have driven me to write similar.