A long time ago there was a girl.
She was happy and care free.
Then she woke up.
The children got meaner,
Her parents’ “constructive criticisim” got harder and harder.
His hand got higher and higher.
The secrets grew deeper and deeper.
She began to lose her smile.
Her laugh
Her voice.
She walks now. A prisoner in her own mind.
She’s nothing but a shell.
So long now its been, she cant even remember what its like to be happy.
She did everything to feel anything.
She became what her father always knew she would.
She clung to the razor to remind herself she’s alive.
She drank so she wouldn’t remember the night.
She took the drugs to numb the pain and the price was only losing that girl she was.
She changed herself again and again but was never accepted.
All at the age of 15.
This girl is done.
Her story is over.
She’s tired of being the one alone.
Tired of her mind being her prison.
Tired of her past clinging to her like the bloodstained sheets to her body.
Tired of being a prisoner in this prison for the damaged.
1 comment
That poem is absolutely beautiful. A terrible thing to live through, but you made your words beautiful. Break out of your prison, but don’t throw yourself off the roof. Maybe tunnel under it;) but all silliness aside, please don’t kill yourself to escape. There are other ways out