The Life Of An Emo Poem by Heart of Ice Die Die Die

The life of an emo...
Can anyone other than one of us understand our pain?
Our need of secrecy?
Sometimes,
it's all we have left
beside the cold blade on our skin.
We feel it cannot become any worse
but, by assuming so we have only worsened it.
If we let our secrecy slip,
allowing that last little bit of sanity to slip away...
Everyone stares.
Looks at you like you're insane,
not right somehow.
But, truly
the only thing wrong with most of us,
is our mangled hearts.
But if it's in the dark...
They stare at you and whisper about you...
As if you weren't even there
like you couldn't tell
as you feel their eyes burning into you,
that their whispers were centered
around emos
around you.
All we have
is the cold blade on our skin.