Two Months From Home

I grab my pen and paper as I always have and sit to write down these thoughts I don't dare to say aloud. In this hallow, cold room my hands fumble and my thoughts run dry. Your voice comes as a scream to me "You're stronger then this" but you have no idea what strong is. Strong is staying when I know things will get tough and bearing to feel the sarratted edge of loves intentional pain. Being but a mere young girl I was never allowed to say sorry or cry as it was a sign of his weakness. As I get older it is all I seem to accomplish. I know you're growing old of my love, for that I have never felt so low. It hurts me that you think my ignorance was best and now I am lost as what I am. I'd change every line for you but you wont come out and ask me to. It's slow and painful and I take in all that you want. You search this world and convince strangers to love and hold you. Your face and fortune has done you well. I wish I could be that for you but you will never ask me to. When you see me I will pretend as though the sky is blue and there is a tune I sing my songs to. I rip out this page so you wont see this scar on me. The scar of how I feel and how I see. My strength is my own and you have not earned the right to feel its depth. Maybe you never will.