Bottled.

Split between two lives:
One where I strive to live,
And the other full of strife from living.
Mottled emotions,
Bottled remorse.
One must die,
A lie to myself,
A sacrifice for the other.
Remorse, of course, from this lost piece of me,
Shall never surface.
Just like my tears,
Just like my fears.
They hide within,
Bottled.
As a memento to my past,
So that I know the strife that I came from,
And the sacrifice it took to strive.