I see where you're coming from.
I know you've been here before.
But this is my life, not yours.
I live it how I want.
I know you care for me.
I love you too.
But it doesn't help me any
when you get upset and yell at me.
Knowing I make you sad,
makes me want to do it more.
You know me better than even I do.
But there are some things I'm not ready to share.
The pain runs deeper
than the scars on the outside show.
You say you always know how I feel
but you have no idea what it feels like
to be extremely happy ine minute
then to be so violently angry or depressed
that killing someone, even yourself, looks good.
I'm sorry I scare you.
I know how fear feels.
So if you try not to yell when I slip,
I'll try to control my inner demons.