We grew up sheltered. Yes we knew bad things happened. But we always thought they were somewhere else, they'd never happen here.



But you grow up and see innocent souls turned. They boy over there is drunk, the girl in the corner smokes weed. And it's not too long until we realize how big these things are. How close they are.




We see kids self harm. We see their bruises. A boy you played with on the playground is drowning in his own self pity. And anymore it's not like we're fighting people with their poking and prodding. But the rolling splashes of depression and the blade. Engulfing us, and we fight on a daily basis just to stay alive.And society doesn't tell us how to fight it.




You hear that you should just get over it, that you deserve better, but do you get it? No one notices. The scars on her wrists, the thoughts in his mind, the look in his eyes.




She'll never admit that she thinks about it, but she knows it's there, the pills in the cabinet, the quick pull of a trigger, the rope hanging in midair. The clock ticks, a door clicks, and slowly goes her life to a different day. A different place.




Yeah they'll say that you're strong, but do they care? No. They don't want to have to deal with it. But you have beauty, it's there. And you just need someone to see it, you.




These people have to stop. They need to see it's not what they say. But how they act. That words do hurt. More than sticks and stones. Although the pain of the bullet lasts eternally. Whether it's words, or home. Or your heart or soul. We need to see it. We need to stop.