Lying in my bed,
Face pressed hard against
The pillow, damp,
As I try to muffle
Every heart rendering sob,
Gasp, wail.
My hands balled
Into fists;
My nails burrowing deep
Into my blood-deprived flesh,
Paled, deathly white.
I lift my face
The slightest
But a shuddering sob
Is ripped out of my
Hoarse throat.
I wrap a hand
Over my wet mouth,
Trying to breathe
Through the tiny gaps
Between my almost
Skeletal fingers.
Another cry
Racks through my mind,
Spilling out of my
Lips, clamped not so tight.
A new surge of pity,
Self-sympathy.
Guilty droplets of warm
Angry tears,
Bitter sadness.
I try to regain
My self-control,
Self-restraint.
I swipe away
At my cheeks,
Press my fists
Against my closed eyes.
"Stop...Please God...
Let it stop..."
I murmur,
Whispered prayers
Slipping into the darkness
Of my supposed bedroom,
My life-long prison.
Is it my fault,
That this is who I am?
What can I do to
Change?
My body, bruised,
My mind, battered,
My heart, broken.
What can I do?
Let this torment end;
I cannot change!
Let them be pleased,
Be happy,
Proud of me.
But I doubt they will
Ever be so
Because otherwise
This torture would have ended
Long ago.
I bury my face
Into my pillow;
An unconscious thought,
A decision, habitual.
I cover my body
With my blanket,
My only source of
Privacy
As my heart is
Broken, shattered,
Again
and
Again...
