white dresses

red lipstick

diamond earrings

black eyeliner

champagne glasses

elegant paintings

classical music

high profiles

fake smiles

plastic words

shallow laughs

empty eyes

cold hearts

careless thoughts

withered spirits

broken souls

I'll scream to you of how hurt I am.

I'll scream at the top of my lungs.

I'll scream until my voice is gone.

I'll scream until I can't anymore.

I'll scream when you can't hear me.

I'll scream when you're with me.

I'll scream until I cry.

I'll scream until I bleed.

I'll scream until I fall asleep.

I'll scream until you listen to me.

This pain cultivates within me. This seed of sorrow buried deep in my soul roots itself in the soil of my emotions and sprouts in my heart. I am dying from the inside out. I am aching in every bone and every muscle of my body, and there is nothing that can fix me. Nothing can restore me from my brokenness. Nothing can sew back together where the fabric of my heart is torn. I suffer in silence, not letting anyone know my pain. But between every breath I take I am screaming internally. I scream so that someone will come and save me, but no one ever does.

We've been drifting apart for so long now

That I can't remember the last time we said a sincere hello.

Yet I can't rid my mouth of the taste of you.

And I can't rid my heart of the ache of you being gone.

We can't close this chasm that separates us.

We can't repair the bridge between us that's been destroyed.

And I call to your dead name every single night.

But you never respond with lively words to revive my cold heart.

We are our own demise.

We are killing ourselves,

In hopes of one day being better.

Because now we are terrible.

And with each breath exhaled,

We release the pain built up within.

Only to inhale and feel the same.

And then the cycle repeats.

Our loneliness eats away at us.

Because we don't know what to do

Except feel isolated from humanity.

Even when we're surrounded by people.

In the end, we just make chaos.

And bleed out discord.

And never find meaning.

Even though meaning is created.

She laid on the hard, cold concrete floor in pain. Her left eye was swollen shut, and her lips and nose were busted. A few of her ribs felt broken, almost as broken as her soul in that moment.

She was naked and shivering from the cold. Her hands and feet were bound by a thick rope, and every time she tried to move, the rope dug into her wrists and ankles.

She was so tired, not just physically but also mentally. She fought for so long to try break free, but the more she struggled, the worse the pain became.

Then, she heard the door open. Light flooded onto her bloody face, with the warmth from outside the room rushing onto her cold and bruised skin. He slowly approached her, as if examining her from a distance to see how much enjoyment he could squeeze out of her.

He grabbed a hold of her by the hips. She wanted so badly to move or scream, but she absolutely couldn't. She had no energy and, more importantly, will left to make her do something. She just looked out of the open door to what was beyond the room. She saw a moderate sized desk with papers and a lamp sitting on top of it. There was no chair beside the desk. Instead, a stool took its place.

Then, he picked her up to where she was on my hands and knees. He began to take off his belt. Then his pants. Then his underwear. She felt the pain and pressure of a penis up her anus. This was the third time today, and she had lost count of how many times this had happened in total. Yet, she still wasn't use to the penetration. She still felt violated each time. She still felt as if she didn't deserve this. As if this was the first time.

He rode back and forth for just a few minutes before being finished. But it felt like eternities were between each movement. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Then, as he was redressing his lower body, she managed to utter, "Why..?"

He paused for a moment. Then, as he continued putting his pants on, he said in the bitterest of tones to her, "Because I like it." He began to walk away. "And you do too, bitch."

Then he shut the door and walked away. And there she laid, vulnerable and hopeless. She knew that this was her life now and that she would always just be an instrument for men's sexual frustrations. She had accepted that.

But what she couldn't accept was why it had to be that way, why God had to play such a cruel joke on her, and she knew that that was going to haunt her for all of her life.

You get so tired that you can't even stand up.

You become so burdened that you don't know how to function.

You run away from everything.

You hide yourself in the cracks of your pain.

You let go of all that afflicts you.

You lose yourself inside of your emotions.

You release all of your fears and frustrations.

You, in those moments, find yourself.

You discover how beautiful and strong you are.

You realize how ugly everything else is.

You recognize that even when you're alone, you have yourself.

He is suffocating, choked by his own noose. All the while, everyone else just watches him as he is executed. No one tries to stop it. No one tries to help him. He struggles to break free from the rope that strangles him, but it is useless. He writhes and flails. Panic scatters through every nerve of his body as the oxygen in his lungs is running out. Eventually, he succumbs to void and becomes lifeless.

My hope has been shattered.

Will you help me mend it?

It's been so long,

and I miss feeling happy.

My joy has been scattered.

Will you help me find it?

I'll sing this song,

and maybe you will listen.

My love has been stolen.

Will you come to save me?

My eyes can't see,

and I can't shake this feeling.

My heart has been swollen.

Will you come to fix me?

My heart can't beat,

and I know that I'm dying.