Blowing Away In The Wind.

In a room with papers tossed about,

She sat in a corner,

With only one light,

The one that refuses to go out.

She had a pen in her hand,

Almost out of ink.

So she sat there,

Silently,

So she could think.

These final words,

Would be what she is remembered by.

The emotion in these rhymes.

The tears that stained the paper,

That no one will ever see.

The messages in those words,

Maybe one day will mean something.

She begins to write,

The pen now her mind.

She fills the paper,

With smiles and tears,

Full of bravery and fear.

She writes,

Without a single word said.

Who needs a voice,

When you can write instead.

Her voice,

Is the paper.

Her mind the pen.

She can yell,

And scream,

About the darkness within,

Without making a single noise....

She smiles,

As her work is now done.

The pen,

Dropped its last bit of ink.

Her mind is empty,

But her heart is full.

She hides the words she has written,

In hope one day they will be found.

Buried in the cold ground

She smiles once again.

Before fading,

And she blows away,

In the wind.

The papers remain,

In hiding.

Her mind was dark but kind.

She would do anything,

To make people believe she was fine.

She sat in that corner,

Until her final breath.

But she would say,

"This is a new life,

Not a Death."