im hidden. afraid to come out from this mask that ive woven this person i pretend to be. but ive been hit over and over again and the mask is braking. so that everyone and everything can see me dying. but does anyone care? no. they stand and watch. the ofer pity but not a helping hand to lift me up and put the broken pices of my heart back togethr. cowerds! you say your there and that you will be my helping hand but your not. maybe your hidding behind your mask? maybe you are scared to? im broken ill never be the same. you can see my face now. clearly im in pain. clearly i need someone to help me off the floor. but there they stand reaching but not far enough. pretending. wispering behind my back about how pitful i am and how im beyond repair. maybe. but what if one person steped up. un afraid of the comments that are made and the glances that can kill? that at least would give me something to fight for.