Of all the things done and said.

Of all the words yelled and screamed.

Of all the emotions torn and fears built and hopes dashed.

Out of all of these things you still don't see my hurt. But I forgive and forget. I gather up what's left of me each time and put myself back together. Giving up any hope that you will one day see that I'm withering way piece by piece. You don't see my tears, you don't see my scars, you don't see my expression every time you tear my down. So I give up, and pick up the pieces. Maybe one day when I'm away I can attempt you regrow what you killed. Until then, I can only hope my soul can survive.