My Dear Her

Oh dear the bliss it is,to be alone,

Cherishing the agony alone.

Hearing the mute numbness.

In the blackness where I can be lost

within,

Isn't that the real me ?

Neither the body is her nor the scenery nor the decor,

It's only a withered someone,

Weeping alone in the corner.

  My dear crumbled delicate someone.

She is trapped in her infancy, 

She can't stand,she was shackled in the abyss.

She wants to fly, but she trembles.

She wants to run, but her legs give up.

She is ashamed to embarrass others,the roots of her existence.

Her walls are broken,her insides tore apart.

She loves and hates and feels the pain but she,

Refuses it all, Confuses it all.

I just want her to be herself.

But the lump in her throat spreads down her chest and her heart aches.

But I want to tell her ; I feel the hurt too. 

She shows me letters; 

she wrote to her in the past.

Yellow,Beautiful and Torn.

I have new pages,I tell her.

She thrashes around scared.

My sympathy stays unrequited.

She is dumb I know,

But she is numb too.

She's scared to seek,it stings her soul.

She talks rarely,

"I was not born to die a pathetic death !"

"I was not born to play on their probability !",

She screams.

Screams bloody murder,

till she loses her voice. 

She watches me and my pleading eyes,

standing there with the keys in my hand.

©Jessica