Sore ribs.

WWII of registered waking up and the opposite rises in magnitude,
but I don't want to wake up to how this feels.

With half a heart, I hang on;
With the other half, I attempt escape
because I don't want to be here again.

I may be more than obvious to some, but you can't see a thing.
I hide behind walls and keep up a facade.
I feel filthy, diseased and traitorous
for doing this (in my mind) to some.

It's gonna hurt, and I'm sorry.