Silent cry

I know how he cries,

alone until he hurts his throat,

that's just his way to cope,

why does he do it,

because it hurts,

it hurts thinking how others tell secrets to people,

but he tells his to his wrists,

the blade he uses could be sharp,

it could be dull,

all he ever did was go deep into thought,

almost drowning in the waters of his worries,

why does he cry so silently,

I can tell he hurts,

he smiles,

even if his cheeks hurt,

he wants to dig a hole six feet under,

he wants to get in and scoop the dirt back in the pastly empty space thats now filled with his body,

the one that he thinks is so ugly,

how I wish his cries weren't so silent,

so he didn't to block away everything in the silence of his own sobs feeling the skin getting damp on his cheeks,

where the pained smile lays,

oh poor boy I wish you didn't silent cry again all day.