Shes no open book,
She takes no pride in the reveal,
The achings are racking up,
Too many wounds are left to heal.
But time is a scarce resource nowadays.
And of course, not all the wounds are interior.
Pain seeps into the flesh,
Compounding and leaving a scarred exterior...
Maybe the day of relief will never come,
Frequently she wants to scream.
Occasionally she does so..
Shes never understood life's grand scheme.
Dreams reveal her heart,
But she could never quite communicate..
Because her heart is bitter and broken.
So instead she bottles up her relentless hate.
Ideas weave throughout her cluttered mind,
But it all lacks foundation.
Spiders knit their cobwebs within the chaos,
Shes drowned in emotional stagnation.
She knows how she SHOULD feel...
Yet she ponders why those emotions never come.
Shes a protege of hurt,
A life shes forced to succumb.
But no one knows shes always felt this.
After all, its her own weight to bear.
Day in, day out, shes dealt with it,
until she wants