They told me it was okay to cry.

But these tears have left hundreds of scars

Auto-biographies written in my skin

All etched with the hopes of finding some peace

Because I only see war.

They told me to breathe.

But my breath is caught

In the windpipes of a woman

Who found her daughter dead last month.

How can I breathe

When the noose

Wrapped around that child’s neck

Should have been my own?

My ribcage no longer protects me

From the words of the people

Who haunt me day and night.

I am vulnerable.

But I don’t want to be saved.

I haven’t felt sane in months.