Withered and Broken

"A rose by any other name would still smell just as sweet..." She takes a slice, maybe two. Precious crimson petals fall into the water as she tells herself "I am alive." The pain is a reminder she is still breathing. Reminding her what its like to feel something. Living is just too much she says... The water is warm, but she feels cold. "I think I will just fall asleep for now." A bath of sadness filled with the life that was once hers. Mom cries out for her baby who isn't responding, father takes another drink and asks where he went wrong. Her eyes are lifeless and look like empty glass. No spark, no more tears of sorrow or pain fall from them. She seems peaceful, maybe. But I knew better... She was crying all the time it happened, the crimson flowing from her veins made her cry harder, "They will miss me and love me now." But I already missed her, long before the clothes changed to cover the scars of painful living. Before she started closing herself off and never talking to anyone. I saw the change, and she was herself no longer. She was darker, always sad. No more smiles or laughter left her lips, only silent prayers that maybe it will one day all go away. I remember her laughter, her joyful sounds that left when she heard a corny joke... Now, all I hear are her pleas for help, but no one listened. I heard her screams, though they never made a sound. I asked to help daily, she didn't say a word of her late nights with a blade. She only whispered in my ear, "I am happy you cared." She left, stopped showing up to school. And now, here we are... Seeing her so pale in a box to rest forever in piece. I am crying, not tears of sadness for the loss in front of their eyes, but for her life that was so cruel that her only escape was a dance with a blade that was too bloody this time. I cried because I knew deep down I could have helped. But she didn't let me in, so now my tears fall to an earth already soaked from rain. Silent curses went up to the sky from my lips, asking why a girl so pure could be driven so far. As if God himself heard my question, the thunder crashed and boomed. I fall to my knees and punch the dirt beneath me till I can feel the numbing sense of pain flow up my arm. I wander, a ghost now. Feeling numb inside from all my nights of crying for her, wishing I'd been able to help. A little voice bites into the back of my thoughts now, "Its all my fault, she would still be here if I had been stronger. My thoughts are about her, and how much she really meant to me. I wanted to see her again, no matter the cost... I took up a knife, sharpened twice, and made a line of ruby red so rich in color I lost control. One more cut, one more and I will see her again... My mother came home to find me clinging to life. Barely breathing, she is why I am still alive. However, I am only surviving, no longer do I live. I am empty, looking for a new meaning to this now pointless life. The lives we lead, are dictated by You, the author, sometimes "Karma," or something so cruel a mistress as "Fate," kicks your footing and shakes you to the core. That is when your true mettle will be tested, how much can continue with a writers block on life? Climb that wall, break it down, just continue to live, do not just survive.

We love, we lose, we laugh, we cry. In the end, you are you, nothing more, nothing less. Call yourself something you are not, dress differently to hide your pain or your shame, or even to blend in for fame. Just remember "A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet."

Reviews

[Shadow of Death]

It is a beautiful piece. I can feel your pain and it almost makes me wonder if this were a true story.

[Philosophers' Dreaming]

Thanks!! I suppose its based off a dream rather than my personal life.

[Shadow of Death]

That... sounds like a terrible dream.