They keep saying that I should talk.
They keep saying that I should explain.
They keep saying that I should make them understand.
They keep saying that I should open up.
But all I tell them is not to worry.
But how do I tell them?
How do I tell them that I’m still bleeding?
That I still see the scar where my heart was?
That I could still feel it being ripped out?
That she broke me more than I’ve ever been broke?
So do you blame me?
Do you blame me for saying that I am okay?
For saying that she didn’t matter?
For faking a smile Everytime I hear her name being said?
For dying Everytime I accidentally open her picture?
But funny enough I am okay.
Because everyday it doesn’t hurt like the day before.
Because in the end I live with a hope.
A hope that tomorrow will be the last day.
The last day I think of her.
But until that day
I am going to fake it
Fake smile myself through the hard times
Because hard times don’t last