Bulemia.
Posted April 6, 2008
Her sceams are all she hears-
Like nails on a chalkboard;
Yet, no one flinches.
They stare blankly around her.
Killing herself more everyday;
She remains obscure to her surroundings.
Alone; choking in sorrow.
What a life:
Living on false hope.
Feeding off heartbreak.
Walking on loneliness.
All these feelings to despise.
Adding to the lies.
Vain attempts to try.
This addiction sinks below the surface.
She wants to stop;
She pleads to stop;
She can't stop.
An obsession more than one can bare;
A soul that continues to rip and tear.
Down a dark hall-
Giving more than one could give;
There's no holding on any longer.
A motionless body,
Scattered across a floor;
As the wind takes her voice,
With no regrets, there's no looking back.
