She slipped into an inner sense of despair
as the cracks in her soul parted into canyons.
She looked into her heart – an abyss –
and soon it stared back at her, and declared,
“You’re broken, my dear.”
She screamed as if her heart’s own voice burned her ears.
She cried as if her tears would ease the sting.
“Make me numb,” she begged to a god who never listened,
“or send me to hell, so the physical pain justifies my suffering.”
She was tormented by the demons she created,
and too immature to initiate their destruction.
Instead of moving forward she looked backwards,
in a desperate attempt to find the missing pieces.
She stood still as if it was her answer,
with a mentality that said, “If I never try then I’ll never fail.”
But beneath the surface she was paralyzed with fear,
believing that any path led to a place no better than where she stands.
Familiarized demons are better than the ones unknown,
so she held them close and claimed them all as her companions.
They were her only confidants in a world so bleak,
proof that she’d need to sell her soul for someone to listen.