She is cold
a needle lost in a blizzard
unaffected, she stands as though a wall
rain buffets her body, but
she stands, not feeling the cold
as it sinks into her bones
she turns around one day
and realises her wall is hallow
and the rain is really her blood
how did it go so wrong?
she was just living
taking each day a little at a time
breathing the moment, then willing it away
each night was just another night
each punch was just another punch
but now she touches her face
and can feel the scars
scars blinded, hidden, then cracked
it's not going away
even though she scrubs her skin raw
she sees what she's become
and its not something she ever wanted to be
she can't escape, she can't forget
so instead she whispers her fears into the night
and the wind carries her words up into the stars
far away from judging eyes, she sighs
and a single tear escapes
