Swallowed sadness

I swallow sadness with every morning cup of coffee.
Suppressing my sadness I walk class to class. Acting as if my life is not burning while I stand and watch the ashes,
My skin is not screeching, begging to be teared open,
My brain is not numb to everything being said,
My hands are not shaking against the warmth of my coffee mug,
My heart is not breaking into microscopic pieces.
As I lay my head down, Sadness comes back. Seeping through my eyes and onto my pillow. Unheard and unseen.