By: Cynthia P. H.
Look behind, beneath the sweater
You’ll be able to see I couldn’t hold it together
Skin scarred for life
Lookin at the souls through that reflective tool
Seems as though pain’s pushed away this numbed feeling
No more tears, no more pain, yet I’m still grieving?
Let the true colors be seen through the eyes of this innocent girl
Give her the love, the strength, the wonder that’s for real
Look at my arms and you’ll wonder what had gone wrong
You’d figure out I’m weak; I’m not strong
You’ll forget my bubbly outside personality
You’ll figure out that I had been living in my own reality
All these problems I ponder over in my head…
Then you think about the stupid things that you had said
You contemplate and wonder whether you took part
In the breaking and tearing of my worn out heart
You listen to these words tryna find some sort of answer
Giving sympathy, “Kid I ain’t got cancer”
I don’t need your pity, got enough for a lifetime
Sick and tired of being lied to time after time
Look behind, beneath my sweater
Tell me if it seems as though I could hold it together
You think I’m faking this pain, think I’m lying
Look into my eyes; does it look like I’m trying?
I’ve been holding my pain in the inside; hiding my past
You think I’m no better than some freak; You think I wont last
I’m opening my heart for you to see my own reality
I’m daring you to look and read about my brutality
You can see my mind, my heart, my whole life, like being sober
Feel my soul, every minute getting colder and colder
Come into my shoes; look at all I’ve seen
Broken hearts, stained tools, scars, and shattered dreams
Look into my soul; Look into the hole in my heart
I’ve waited it to fill up since the very start
I’m sick and tired of feeling lousy; Listening to all of their garbage
Saying, “Oh I love you, I care for you,” Man , get a grip
First you tell me off, then you tell me you care?
Tryna make your own self look good, foo you swear!
You don’t know why I did this. you don’t know my life
Look behind, beneath the sweater
You’ll be able to see I couldn’t hold it together
But now I’ve got some help, from my Silly Little Horse and my Twinky<3
We tell each other problems, share secrets, swears with the pinky
Even got a therapist, named Mr. Garfield Roosevelt Bright
Heck of a name, but he helps me find and do what is right
I also got Mrs. Zepeda, my second mom, my seventh grade teacher
I’m glad I had the honor of having to meet her
I’ve got my faith with me and now I’ve been better
Now, not as often do I have to worry what’s under the sweater
I used to injure myself, tryna get rid of the pain
I guess it just brought more problems, brought more to my strain
Living life as a freak wasn’t the role I would’ve chosen
But then again, we don’t always have a choice in what we are put in
I thank God for giving me the strength to get through what I had
Thank Him for giving me friends who make me laugh with words like “smad”
Look behind, beneath the sweater
I may not have been able to hold it together
But I have to live with it and make it all the more better
I don’t have to worry about what’s behind, beneath my sweater…