what it looks like in my head sometimes

she’s gagged and she’s bound and everything hurts

trying to believe it won’t keep getting worse

with the moments that pass and the days that grow longer

making her wish she could simply be stronger

but she swallows the pain as she puffs out her cheeks

for the clock on the wall has been frozen for weeks

but it makes little difference in the place where she stays

to the demons who taunt her and won’t go away

and the dreams that she dreamed and the wishes she’s  wished

have been boiled and reduced to just wanting to fix

all the misunderstandings inside of her head

that all scream and all whisper she’s better off dead.

there’s a flower that’s blooming by the window sill

she admires in moments where she can be still

and she hopes that the summer will let the bloom thrive

and she prays that the two of them both can survive

through the bite of the winter that chaps at her skin

while she wonders how she found this mess that she’s in

for the problems are stupid, the struggles naive

and it seems not to matter she’s fighting to breathe

and the ones who would love her remain at a loss

that she trembles in silence, no matter the cost

they’ll never believe that it’s for their own good

this feeling inside – she’d spare them if she could.

the blouse that she’s wearing is covered in stains

from the places she’s bleeding to get through the pain

but the stitches and sutures hold only so far

and no matter the artwork, there’ll still be a scar

to detract from the value that she’s never had

she’d be fine if the pain didn’t hurt her so bad

so she turns to the Bible in hopes that a look

will reveal some great mystery there in the book

but the words bleed together, the lines are immense

and the concept within it just doesn’t make sense

so she rips through the pages in search for her own

fearing none of it matters – she wants to go home

there’s gotta be something she’s supposed to do first

but she’s gagged and she’s bound, and everything hurts.