Poetry

Morning

Hands shivering, heart pounding, the sun no where to be found,

Pillow soiled, eye lids involuntarily shut, stinging headache,

All mornings have been like this, spells lasting more than others.

Prolonged bathroom breaks, mirror avoidance, silent echoes of silent cries,

Noting down emotions, 8 consecutive weeks of putting on a brave face holding on to life with one hand.

She masks her pain in her daily routine, a ritual to make all seem fine so no one has to worry about her,

They will never get it, thoughts overshadowing her already troubled mind…

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