The sound of waves crashing against the shore,

they matched the feeling violent pain you bore.

The cuts on this body that holds your soul,

weren't like a mole.

They were hidden under your skin,

and it was something that would hurt your future kin.

You needed to make the aching end,

so you tried to pretend.

You looked at yourself in the mirror,

to see the wounds clearer.

To see what would be the easiest to hide,

but the mirror would chide.

It would chide you for burying your pains, just like your mother would,

but you knew you should.

You didn't have the money for help, nor the time to yelp,

and you knew you would feel like a whelp.

You remained quiet and watched the shore,

watching as the pain you carried became no more.

For you managed to silence it with the flick of a knife,

and the night kept quiet about your strife.