Hands on her head, she’s worrying.
She wears a smile you can read right through.
Her hand held over her heart, it’s hurting.
All day survival mode has become a way of life, pretending there’s happiness.
The wind dries her tears on her face that uncontrollably fall.
She walks, a lot.
The wind also blows around her hair drying the sweat from walking so hard.
She looks deep into the sky looking for God with those teared up hazel eyes.
Hatred has become the norm from others.
She’s done no wrong, yet accused.
Will anyone ever see her past the false rumors against her?
Can anyone see me? She wonders all day, I’m real.
No appetite, no sleep again.
Curled up in her big bed alone, she fears that’ll never change.
Cries-nightmares-panic attacks, her nightly routine.
Cool morning breeze on her face, with eyes closed.
Thankful she’s alive.
She prays, smiles, & fights through another day.
P.S. Never give up! Even through the painful, darkest moments…Don’t give up!