She hides her face
when shes not alone
she wears a mask,
but its not her own
It’s everyone else
she wants to be
Be just like them
supposedly free
Free from the troubles
the troubles of life
free from sin
and worries and strife
But when night time falls
and she climbs into bed
her mask falls apart
and her heart fills with dread
She screams and she cries
but no one can here
she wants them to know
know all her fear
Her fear of facing
a world with no mask
afraid they wont like her
afraid they wont ask
So she waits for the day
with hope in her heart
when she’ll wear her own face
and make her new start
(by Melantha Abraham)
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I sit on the white cot, gently I slide my fingers across the gentle baby blue material of a blanket that drapes across my lap.
I look across the room and see a white toilet and sink, I see a steel chair and table. Atop the table I see flowers’ from my mother.
Red and yellow with lively green leaves. Slowly I push aside the blanket and rise letting my bare feet patter across the stone floor.
Standing next to the table I lean down and let myself breath in the sweet fumes of a red flower, thinking of my mother and her kind ways.
Then I remembered how she let them take me, to this awful place.
Anger surges through my veins. I pick up the vase and let it glide through the air to the stone wall.
The glass breaks and the memories take me back. I fall to the ground sobbing, the memories hurt.
I think back to my first day in this room. I remember looking at the guard, I remember his words, Welcome to your suicide room. I pick up a large piece of glass and easily slide the glass across my wrist, nothing happens its not deep enough.
Then I stop and think, is it worth it? I’ll never know. I press the glass deep into my wrist, the words Welcome to your suicide room echo in my head. Then darkness overcomes me
(by Amber C. Shields)
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OH look at you, you troubled soul,
your mind so heavy, so dim.
The bonds that held you then, still hold you now,
and your heart grows cold and grim.
The sadness I see in your eyes
will not, cannot pass on.
So your soul cannot survive
and soon it will be gone.
This is a burden I cannot carry
and you cannot pass on.
This is a burden you must carry trudging on all alone.
I fear for you, oh troubled soul.
The weight, i fear, is to great.
I fear for you, oh troubled soul.
For you, now, it is too late.
(by Heidi R. Stinemetz)
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