A dark pool of liquid.
Sits in the corner of a
Floor so checkered you
Feel the hypnotizing squares
As the seconds tick on.
A pencil sits lifeless
Strayed next to the
Dark crimson blood.
Where its tip use to sit, sharp as a knife,
Now lays a stub of agony.
The child directly to the left
Of the blood soaked tile
Is curled over as if the
Dagger sharp lead is now
Wedged in her skin,
So deep into the previous scars,
It may never be retrieved.
A princess castle
A small child
A river
A sunshine
Are all drawn on the canvas
As if the happy images are
Mocking her pain.
She can recall the time of happy years,
When happiness was an
Involuntary function,
But cannot recall what this
Happiness felt like.
The fog in her mind
Took its claim far too long ago
Now prospering off of each
Slash of relief.
The horrors of her current life
Flood her memory as the tears
She is trying so hard to hold in
Flood onto the checkered tiles.
Pitch black engulfs the room and canvas and those mesmerizing tiles
Mimicking the black cloud
That takes up so much of her body.
She glances at the
Small child drawn behind her
Praying for her to replace the
Girl who is dead inside.
But her prayers can’t mask the
Silence of the room
Causing the screams in her head to
Yell for encores.
A silence so loud she wishes she
Could escape it.
She never wanted to end her life
She just wanted to remember her life
Before the pain took over.