Hell
Mornings would arise and yet she would not awake,
She wished she could stay there for eternity.
Her pillow still wet from the night before,
Stained by her black, (supposed) waterproof mascara,
She always dreaded the day ahead, looking only forward to the night.
It was a forever spiralling circle,
Deeper and deeper she would fall
Into the darkest depths of nothingness.
No way out and no-one there to help her,
Certainly no light at the end of the tunnel.
The days always seemed so bleak,
She looked forward to going home.
For those bullies, bullied her well,
Until the poor girl felt like dying.
Enclosed within her room once more, she'd bury her head away.
Her arms bruised so badly from those bully girls,
Her eye beginning to swell- it hurt just to cry.
She learnt how to cope with the violence, the names she could not handle.
She became emotionally unstable, thinking it better to die.
The days grew darker, months went by.
As coping became harder, she thought of giving in.
The blackness misted her once more, her vision so bleak,
She took the knife and raised it to her arm.
But suddenly she thought better.
Instead she picked up a pad and pen,
Words flew onto the page in form of poetry.
A poem about a girl with depression;
A tale about her.
By J.L.
