She sleeps with the knife under her pillow. Trying to hide it from her mother.
She sleeps with it in her hand just in case she has a bad dream and needs to escape.
She doesn't know why she keeps doing it.
In health class she hears them talking about how it doesn't solve anything. And she sees all these people whose lives it's ruined.
She wants to escape.
So she does.
But she doesn't know it's taken a hold of her and that she isn't herself anymore.
She doesn't know who she is.
She doesn't know who she wants to be.
She freaks out because she thinks she isn't good enough.
She can't sleep because she thinks she did something to make you hate her even though you only said hi to her.
She can't go hangout with friend for the fear of being too annoying so she stays inside with the blade tucked under her pillow.
She knows it would kill her mother if her mother found out.
So she writes on her skin some more.
She cries and cries because she thinks she isn't pretty enough, isn't smart enough, isn't extroverted enough.
She doesn't know what to do.
Doesn't know how to get out.
Can't see how it will ever get any better at all.
She's lost every hope in the world.
But she keeps going.
All because if she leaves she thinks it'll make things worse.
She thinks if she leaves she'll be the worst daughter ever.
She thinks that will make her a huge disappointment.
But her mother is down stairs making her favorite meal.
Her mother is trying to make her happy.
What she doesn't know is that while she's asleep she walks into her mother's bedroom and shows her the scars. Shows her the blood.
But her mom knows she's asleep and that she won't remember it.
Her mother wept and wept when she found out. But she hasn't given up.
That's what's keeping her here.
Her mother's love.
No matter how much she wants to leave she knows she can't.
But she can't wake up either.
Little does she know her father isn't really dead. He just can't stand to see her like this.
Her mother thinks he's dead too.
She's upset.
She can't get out.
Nobody can get it.
There's no where to hide.
"Where am I suppose to go?"
YOU ARE READING
Broken Wings
Poetry'For someone so small you're pretty strong. For someone so brave you're pretty shy. For someone so observant you're pretty abnormal.' For someone like me it's pretty hard to decide who I wanna be or where I want to fit in. So this isn't exactly poet...
