TRIGGER WARNING: contains a heavy depressive episode. Please, do not read this if you are triggered by this content.
One fine day
on a lazy spring afternoon,
the mosquitoes were a humming
and sweat bees circled the weeping girl,
landing on her bare roughed up arms
and nipping at her flesh.
She was cryin’,
begging for the god above to
show her a sign.
Something, anything, to give her
a slice of hope,
proof that life was worth
living a living death for.
She cried harder and harder,
her face streaked with tears.
“Please! God, oh God!
I need something!”
she choked on her sobs.
Her legs gave out and she slid down the crooked oak.
That came out as a whimper.
Because she couldn’t go on
like this –
living in this dull, crushing nothingness.
Tears, rage, and this
hazy, fucking crazy swell of hurt
was her everything. She didn’t even have anything to
be sad about.
She just was, and she just couldn’t anymore.
Let the world feast on her bones,
because that’s all that was left.
Copyright © 2018 by Nita Pan
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