Every night the tears fell,

only to be silenced by sleep.

Scarred wrists,

cuts of passion.

Battle wounds from the raging war against herself.


Each morning her eyes would open,

each night when she closed them she’d pray they wouldn’t,

eternal peace, eternal peace.

Another day lived in pain,

drowning while watching everyone else around her breathe.


Her biggest fear is herself,

terrified she’s going to kill herself or someone else.

She looks in the mirror,

the face she sees is not her own.

But what did she know about dreams coming true?

Reality took her childhood and pumped it full of lead,

leaving her surrounded by the smoldering pieces of her hopes and dreams.

A single tear rolls down her cheek,

drips onto the floor.

Barely audible, she whispered aloud,

“I thought growing up was supposed to be beautiful.”

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