Shattered Glass
I scream and call out for help, but it feels like no one can hear me. My cries are ignored as I bang on the glass, desperate to shatter it completely.
I feel like I'm standing behind glass, screaming for help where nobody can hear me. I just want to break the glass and finally be set free.
The thought of finally living again is intoxicating.
Shattered glass, through every cut and scar.
Finally, just finally, I'm sick and tired of putting up with your bullshit—your lies, your schemes, your petty little life.
Every punch I throw, right down to my bruised knuckles—my knuckles bruised to shit, blood dripping from the cracks and cuts, the unbearable pain, down to the tiniest scar. I have the proof of my struggle, and it's all worth it in the end.
I keep punching the glass to break free, but still, no one sees or hears me. My cries for help go unanswered.
Through the open wounds, the blood, cuts, and scars, pieces of broken glass lay scattered below me, everywhere the eye can see.
Blood drips down my hands, flowing down my wrists and arms. I stand there, unfazed.
As you look at me, tell me, what do you see when you look into my eyes? Can you see the sorrow and pain, the loneliness that engulfs me? I'm a shell of the girl I used to be. People look at me daily, yet I feel like a ghost—there, but unnoticed.
Can you pick up the broken pieces that surround me, collect them, and put me back together once again?
Originally Written ~ By Makaila Billiel
