The Girl

   She looks through the world through deadened eyes, cold and broken, staring and unfeeling. 

   She stares through everything, sees behind the glamour and the beauty and sees a corpse staring back. 

   Glittery, sparkly, beautiful s**t. 

   No one sees her, understands her.

   Ignored by the world that loved everything else, the internet and social media.

   Imagines that no one has ever, ever actually seen her.

   I try and look.

   I try and see.

   I want to help.

   She ignores me.

   She's given up on life at long last.

   She doesn't want to see.

   Wants to see a different picture than she's been painting all her life.

   Wants to splatter it with crimson, and make each wrong a right.

   I confront her, tell her this is not the way it's meant to be.

   There is change.

   There is help.

   Just look and try to see..

   But her eyes slide away from mine and I know this is the way I will see her for the last time.

   I tell her this will get better.

   My voice cracks on all the words she wants to hear.

   She turns away from the mirror...

   And I say I can't.

   I can't do what I've been telling her to do.

   I can't.

   There is no help.

   No one notices me.

   I can't strive for tomorrow when today is always dead.

   I can't listen to the preaching I've been coaching to myself.

   She looks back to the mirror.

   She gives her thanks.

   And ties the rope around her neck.

Reviews

[Desiree O'Neal]

Awe this was so sad but so relatable, you did really good with this piece of work.