Every Morning

March 13, 2008
By Emma Schaefer, Bountiful, UT

Every morning, when she wakes
A mask goes on, to hide her face.
Tears were cried, no reminders remained
No emotions, just vague expressions.
Inside there's screams, collapses and fears
No one hears or sees a thing, except her carefully composed mask
Except for silence, no sobs, no shrieks, no anything.
In the night, she takes a knife to pierce her heart
She swipes a gun to bombard her skull
She ties a rope to ensnare her throat.
Tell me then, who will miss her?
Who then, will here her screams?
Or see here tears?
Or have witnessed her pains, tears, and fears?
That night she died, and took her life
Who's fault is it? Is it hers alone?
Or your actions, your words, the blame holds?
The mere neglect, or harsh words said,
And you might say, no one ever knew,
That she was sad, she never said.
But she never said!
No words were spoken from her lips.
No emotions on her face.
It was all a facade.
It was just a mask.
But the damage was to late to recall.

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