Eighty eight

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I run upstairs

stand in front of my room

my eyes stare back at me

pity and sympathy in them

not again

I can feel them say

tears well up in my eyes

as I'm defeated once again

by the hands of my own blood

they silence me

tear my vocal chords out

they don't let me speak

what now

my eyes ask

ready to spill the water stored

I don't understand

I say

closing them

why won't they just let me be

-E

Behind These Eyes  (Poetry)Where stories live. Discover now