half moon bruises
painted directly under her eyes
like war paint
from her depression.

cotton candy colored hair
cropped close to her head
shiny, and slick with grease
from days of not being able
to look at her naked self
in the shower.

angry hunger pains
fill her every waking hour
and keep her awake,
with tears stinging in
her swampy green eyes.

if she does manage to fall
deep into the slumber that
she desperately craves,
nightmares wrap around her
throat and pull her out of the
bittersweet embrace of
unconsciousness.

barely climbing her way
out of the thick, black muck
of her mental illness
she cried for help

in return
the world stuffed her
full of pills of different
concoctions
two or three for each
disease in her mind.

she’ll always be sick,
she’ll always have bad days
she’ll always have the horrid memories
but now
but now she can part take
in society