Here's to You Mother

You don't see what you do to me,
the evidence is hidden.
I can't be everything you want me to be.
Anyone seeing my emotion is forbidden.

You don't know what scars lie on my skin.
I don't think you ever will.
You don't know where they begin,
but all of them are real.

Each one etched beneath my clothes,
each with a purpose,
family, friends, and foes,
showing clearly on the surface.

Overlapping one another.
Too many to even think about counting,
but there's plenty for you mother,
they just keep on mounting.

Clothes with blood stains.
You ask what they are.
They are from pains,
so close, yet so far.

The razor is hidden away,
somewhere you will never find,
but close enough to be used everyday.
It is my way to unwind.

So here's to you,
and what you make me do.
Keep on,
and one day I'll be gone.