Mental Health

SWEET SORROW

Her eyes are like embers of coal,
They bear no reflection of a soul,
She carries the scars of a thousand wars,
Yet they say the course was never worthy.

As she listens to the voices in her head,
The things she dreads most seem to haunt her the most,
The daily verses she rehearses are often quite morose.

She wonders,
Why do they snub,
This disease of the mind?
When did our default,
Become the “I’m fine?”
When will they all open their eyes,
To the life behind the mask,
And the hurt behind the laugh?

She is quite twenty,
But she is not hearty,
Not anymore,
Her mind’s gone awry,
Dare not pry,
But in her eyes are stories left untold.

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