I had hope of life.

Fighting the inevitable- “there’s no body”.

 Hoping the prodigal son will come home.

Hiding wounds for they can’t see-

wiping tears for they can’t know.

For if murder took your heartbeat ,

it took my heart too.

If it’s your life that was taken 

Ive stopped living mine too. 

If pain is what should be felt then my whole body aches

My head controlled by countless visions of your deafening screams -

was it quick and painless or long and dreadful?  

how all the dead bodies I’ve had to identify will one day be yours.

How the very first funeral I’ll ever attend may be yours.

There's no happiness, no freedom -no life after murder

..only pain and sadness ..

Each day is a fight to exist for the pain tomorrow births 

Waking to the reminder of reality

‘go on now little girl’- water your smile like your soul isn’t dying inside.

Oh how I love being your heart keeper-

how terrible to not know if I carry a heart full of wounds

or one without a pulse.