poems

in her room

In the quiet of her room at night,
A girl battles a silent fight,
With shadows deep and thoughts so tight,
She finds a dark, forbidden light.

Her skin, a canvas marked with pain,
Each cut a way to numb the strain,
A crimson stream, her secret rain,
A moment's peace in sorrow's reign.

She watches as the blood drips slow,
A tragic dance, a mournful show,
In every drop, her heartbeats echo,
A silent cry, a hidden woe.

The pain, it whispers, calls her name,
A fleeting friend in endless shame,
Yet every cut, it fans the flame,
A cycle cruel, always the same.

She yearns for solace, seeks release,
A way to find a lasting peace,
But in the blood, she finds a lease,
A brief escape, a false surcease.

Her heart is heavy, soul so worn,
A life in fragments, dreams all torn,
Yet somewhere deep, a hope is born,
A wish to see a brighter morn.

For in the night, she’s not alone,
A silent plea, a whispered tone,
A call for help, a heart to loan,
To find the strength to heal, to grow.

She dreams of days without the pain,
Of skies unclouded by the rain,
A life where love and light remain,
A future free from sorrow’s chain.

In time, she hopes to find her way,
To break the bonds, to see the day,
When scars will fade and shadows sway,
And in the light, her heart will stay.

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