Call it insomnia. Call it stress. Call it a waste of concern,
but I haven't closed my eyes in three days.
I spend my nights searchin',
searchin' for something to search for.
"Something to stress for."Cyborg thinks.
But they don't get it; I am scared. These walls are not thick enough. This tower isn't tall enough. This place isn't far enough
from all that's keeping me up at night.
There's no words that comfort me, I'm scared. You can't tell me he's gone, I'm scared.
I'm scared.
I'm scared.
They don't get it; These images lurk me when no one's around. He follows me, he still does. If I close my eyes- he's there.
So I don't.
I don't close my eyes. These black and swollen eyes are on watch day and night.
I hear a rattle from behind me. I then fail to hear my heartbeat for a moment.
This is why I'm scared.
This is why I spend my nights awake.
This is why.
Why don't they get it.
I'm scared.
I'm scared.
I'm scared.
But I tell myself I'm not. I tell myself I can take on anything. I tell myself to get off my desk chair and take out my bo-staff. I brandish it, and see my hands shaking.
"Show yourself." I say and hear my voice shaking.
"Robin?" I recognize the voice.
You're kidding me.
"What is your problem Starfire!" I lash out. I smash the bo-staff to the ground. Then I spill it all out; how I'm afraid, and how no one gets it. That it hurts when no one asks about my swollen eyes.
Then she spills that no one asks because no one knows I'm afraid because of the act I put on and that I never give her the chance to see my weary swollen eyes because of the mask I put on, and that I needed to open those swollen eyes a little more to realize that.
Then my eyes finally close. Why? Because it's rude to have your eyes open during a kiss, of course.