I am a sheet of paper, torn and lacerated, A piece of me that I cannot put back together. My wounds are deep, invisible, A pain that cannot be seen, but felt. My skin is a diary, a tale of pain, A secret I cannot share. My scars are maps of an inner journey, A path of searching, of self-discovery. I am a cry, silent and stifled, A plea to the world that cannot be heard. A pain that does not go away, a burden I carry, A secret I cannot tell, a burden I cannot share. Never.