These worn out keys, my ink less pen, and my beat up notebook.

I know that no one will love me for who I am.
I have to put on a fake smile everyday,
and make up lies about what's wrong.
I can only cry in the shower,
then claim I got shampoo in my eye.

I suffer from a broken heart.
But I know I can't die yet.
There's someone I still love,
even if they don't love me back.

I have such a carefully composed mask,
some people don't believe these poems are mine.
No one knows how much pain I'm in.
No one.
Except these worn out keys,
my ink less pen,
and beat up notebook.

But not even they can feel the things I feel.
I'm glad I'm so numb,
Because it would hurt to smile otherwise.