The voice of pain

Heartbroken, lips puffy, Tear drops soak through cotton, leaving permanent stains. Key reluctantly pushed into the door of hell, The rush of pain runs to her and grabs the throat Suffocating the victim who only stares Intoxicated and wounded. Teeth marks outlined in the once smooth, innocent skin, Pink lines gradually form, hiding the blue-green original lines. Purple welts and bent head. The red drops decorate white tiles, Most are washed down the drain. Mirrors banged, Cries of hopelessness darken the white walls. Prison like rooms with pink curtains. Glass bottles along windowsills, Empty and broken, sharp edges. Dark circles like sunglasses Expose the grief, Nobody asks. She lies on cold tiles They step over, She cries, it cracks the walls They turn up the volume, She screams and they brew coffee. She’s finally silent, And they sleep. © Copyright 2014 Renee (UN: reneej at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.

**Depression is real and its not just being sad
**Fiction

Until next time
"Love as long as you breathe, laugh as long as you live" (Unknown)

Cheers
Renee'