A/N: Welcome to my new short story! It is told through a series of poems. Also, please note that these are the views of the character(s) written with first-person, and are not my own. Also: proceed with caution - this is NOT a happy story - it involves depression, grief, anxiety, and suicide. Additionally, if you ever feel anything remotely similar to what Tara does in this prologue, please, PLEASE, PLEASE, don't feel alone, and remember that there are others who love you for you, and please don't feel afraid to ask for help!!
Other than that, feel free to comment on what you think of this verse short story, and have your tissues ready. :'( Okay, I won't keep you any longer - sorry for making this author's note so long!
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Tara's POV
I put on concealer,
and I realize
that they don't tell you
how to cry.
Society wants us perfect,
behind a stony mask
wanting our lives to
seem perfect
while we break inside.
I've lived inside for 16 years,
wanting nothing more than
to be able to put down my facade.
To be noticed.
To be cherished.
To be loved
for who I am.
But alas, this cannot be,
and the mask cannot be
pounded through.
The hopelessness I feel
wrenches my heart,
surrounding it,
encompassing it,
squeezing it,
until I gasp for breath.
The concealer cannot
hide how broken I am inside,
as the tears stream down my face,
blurring my vision,
confirming my decision,
I'm sorry mom, dad,
Adria,
Logan.
My hand inches towards
the pocket knife stored
in the deep recesses
of my jeans pocket.
I grasp it,
murmuring a sorry
to all my family and friends,
and plunge it
inside my
ever
wrenching
heart.
