Who hear her cry when no one is around, who hear her scream when the night has fallen down. Who has shut the gate to heaven and left her here all alone. I wonder what keeps her saint, I remember she wasn't the only one who left home, but among billions of people she felt she was stranded alone.
For her, anxiety was the way of living, her life was drained and she succumb into the feeling of helplessness, she was wounded and hurt to the point where tears kept falling down her cheeks every night the sun has settle down. She was a victim of her emotions, they kept haunting her every time she closed her eyes. Somehow she felt nobody would ever understand her loneliness or cure her from thinking that everything is hopeless and without meaning. The feeling of emptiness was all she has and that's how she would describe herself when someone ask her how she feel.
Depression got under her skin, she couldn't scratch it away, so she tore her flesh open while watching the blood ease the pain. It felt so good and she felt so free. One line of blood, two lines of bloods, they kept piling up outside her skin. She marked herself and counted the days; one hundred days and she still feels this way; broken in pieces.
Give her hope and pray for her, all she needs is little of your time and love. Share and care for the person that she trapped inside herself; a little wounded child that needs attention from herself and everyone around.
0 comments:
Post a Comment