Spilled Tea

A Story

There once was a girl
with the eyes of both
her mother and father.

Her father, an opinionated man,
completely changed from pain.
Utterly different from the man
he was when she was young.

Her mother, a fairly honest woman
who never could truly understand
her type of exhaustion.
Nobody she's met has
understood her exhaustion.

She has never understood
the emotional change they all say
they went through
as they grew older.
That piece of life where
nothing feels right,
for a long time,
until things snap back
in place again.

She cannot remember a time
when the exhaustion
and the anxieties
have not made her wish
she could become
a crumpled autumn leaf,
just to break apart
and dissipate into
the relaxing breeze.

Instead,
the music she could make,
the music that made
these feelings go away,
disappeared from her lungs.
The improvement of a talent
that she always
knew was hers was gone.

Can you feel the hole
ripped into her chest?
Can you feel the moment
when it all was taken away
so inconsiderately?

Slowly yet violent,
the vibration in her vocal chords
is replaced with pain.
Mentally and physically.

Her peers look oddly at her,
some with irritation,
but can they not see this stolen
piece of her is more than
enough of a wound?

She's screaming out,
but all you can hear is the suddenly immature-sounding voice of a girl
who always feels
a step behind everyone else.
She's so close,
yet there is a line she never
seems to be able to cross.

In the blink of an eye,
something that used to be relief
became the biggest anxiety
and she doesn't know
what to do
to bring the relief back.