All she really is, is an invisible girl made of jaded scars imbedded a little more than skin deep,
Smothered by naked fears and stale memories that she wishes she didn’t have to keep.
Freezing, frigid there’s no longer any warmth; it’s deeply buried beneath emotions turned cold and dark,
Struggling to find a way to forget her broken past, a past leaving behind scattered, unforgivable marks
Several wasted years, she defended her strength; along the way she lost her will to be bold,
Shattered self respect, lost in silence, stole her will to come in from out in the cold.
Inducing physical pain sets a reminder to grasp for a changed life patiently,
Having to discretely hide broken flesh proves society treats her differently.
Her slow, shallow breaths are all that sustains life in a heart already dead.
A once beautiful heart murdered by endless time, and silent hated words never left unsaid.
Even her peaceful sleep is cluttered with pain so strangling she doesn’t willing sleep—
Needing, wanting, her barricade walls to fall enough— even her sleep she’ll want to keep.
For as long as memories can go back, she’s been searching for the individual that wants her to stay.
She often catches herself straining for heard words in silence that no one will ever say.
Stand still time has allowed coping, soon healing—now dealing with probably never getting that one chance.
Already realizing, being invisible, she won’t now or ever catch a second glance.
Recently, presently, she questions answers to why she’s always started out the day breathing,
Yearning, reaching, she wants answers to questions pushed aside, causing confusion, and life to continue unweaving.