She has been fighting herself,
Holding herself back.  

The urgent innate feeling
To release these emotions
That she hides,
Is so strong.
It is eating her alive.

She is struggling
To keep these burdening,
Painful,
Heavy,
Emotions
Buried
Deep
Down
Inside.

If she were
To be overpowered
And defeated
By this feeling,
And if she went ahead  
To begin to try to transfer
These disturbing feelings
From her heart,
And from her soul,
Into her mind,

Where she would then
Transform them into words -
Words that would surely struggle
As they drip through her pen,
Staining her paper
With blood-red ink--tears...

These words would surely
Be too dark -
The ink would surely
Run through every page,
Beneath the sheet
In which she writes;
Soaking through each one of them,
Right down to the desk
In which they rest--staining it;
Hence, draining her pen.

They would surely
Be too heavy  -
The paper would not withstand
Their hefty weight -
The ink would dampen the sheet,
Tearing it,
Beyond repair.

The same way
These emotions
Have torn through her heart -

The same way
They have tattered
And stained her delicate soul.

The same way
He broke her lively spirit
Into peices
With his crushing words.

By Lady R.F. (C)2017