December 3, 2009
Living a lonely life of self-torment;
she clings to her bed as a safe oasis.
She is her one and only true friend.
With friends come obligations.
She makes no commitments but to herself.
Her life is a never-ending nightmare.
Replaying distorted images of horror and fear.
Her mind has been martyred.
Free thinking has only caused distance;
distance between herself and the world.
Her life is judged and on display.
Wicked glares and hidden intentions
tailgate her every step.
Trapped and isolated feeling buried,
beneath cries of help and sorrow,
betrayed and mistreated,
she eats lunch in the bathroom.
As she stares in the mirror,
her reflection is me.
I am that girl;
the girl with the broken soul.

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