It controls her
She can't stop it
It's a constant battle
She can't drop it

It has become a habit
She can't quit
It's taking over her body
Bit by bit

The scars fade
But the memories don't
She wants them to leave
But they refuse.. They won't

It's an on going battle.
It's a fight she never wins
It's a constant struggle
It's a war that never ends

It's her sweet escape
It gets her lost in her own place
She gets to control the pain
As her adrenaline starts to race

She grabs it off the dresser
As a tear falls from her cheek
She presses even harder
Reminding herself not to shriek

No one understands
No one ever will
This habit now controls her
As the world around her stands still

But now the room is spinning
Her head is getting light
She falls back in her bed
Refusing to put up a fight

She takes one last breath as she turns out the lights
Then she closes her eyes as she calls it a night

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come

My father walked me down the aisle,
But my mother held my arm.
He went with me,
But we went not towards the altar,
But towards the door.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And the ***** rang through the church,
Humming through the elaborate crown molding,
Carved by my ancestors.

He went,
Not beside me,
But before me,
And I watched,
As he was illuminated by the bright,
Overbearing,
Texas sun.

My father walked me down the aisle,
But I did not wear white.
My father walked me in silence,
And I shed tears not for a man standing at the altar,
But for the one I would never see again.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And no veil obscured my face.
All eyes were upon me, but not for my pristine beauty,
Instead for my clenched jaw and furrowed brow,
Severe and fierce to distract from my glassy eyes.

My father did not leave me at the end of our walk to sit beside my mother.
She clung to me for support and sobbed breathlessly,
Loudly,
Unavoidably,
And I carried her with one hand,
My sister the other,
And walked towards my future.
A future family,
Not one person more,
But one person less.
I walked,
One final time,
With him.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And I will never forget it.
Hundreds of eyes isolating my family from the crowd,
Slow and muffled sounds drowning in the deafening beat of my heart,
Blurred faces staring,
Black heels clacking against the cobbled path from the church,
The anguished wails of my mother,
The whimpering of my sister,
And the wooden box that glided before us,
Pulling,
A string tied to our patriarch,
The pin key of our family,
Pulled taut and then snipped with the slam of the hearse doors.

My father walked me down the aisle,
Before I had a chance to grow up.
He walked me,
Out of the church,
Away from the altar,
Never to be walked again.

Time doesn't heal.
And the wound knows it.
Layers gather on the ****
but the damage remains,
hiding itself deep inside
the secret scar

When I was five,
my mother told me I was loved.
Years later, she asked me to leave because
I was the reminder of the gruesome past that haunted her.

When I was ten,
my father told me he believed in me.
Years later, he refused to accompany me because
I was an embarrassment to him in front of the society.

When I was fifteen,
my friends told me I was funny.
Years later, they all laughed at me because
I was the gullible teenager who fell for their flawless façade.

When I was twenty,
this guy said I was beautiful.
Years later, he trashed me, tormented me because
I was ignorant enough to overlook my inevitable flaws.

So, sorry for not believing in you,
for questioning your intentions, inclusively, in-depth
when you told me you loved me because
I didn’t want to wind up years later,
learning it the hard way that people often don’t mean what they say.

⠠⠚⠂⠇⠳⠎⠇⠽⠀⠯⠀⠉⠕⠗⠗⠥⠏⠰⠝⠀
⠠⠁⠃⠕⠗⠞⠀⠮⠀⠺⠁⠽⠎⠀⠷⠀⠮⠀⠎⠕⠧⠻⠑⠊⠛⠝⠀
⠠⠮⠀⠐⠙⠎⠀⠷⠀⠮⠀⠩⠑⠇⠞⠻­⠫⠀⠏⠗⠕⠧⠔⠉⠑⠀⠝⠥⠍⠃⠻⠫⠀
⠠⠇⠊⠞⠻⠁⠞⠑⠀⠔⠀⠮⠀⠺⠁⠽⠎⠀⠷⠀⠗⠑⠆⠇⠇⠊⠕⠝
⠠⠌⠜⠎⠀⠜⠑⠀⠡⠁⠕⠞⠊⠉⠀⠏⠕⠑­⠞⠗⠽⠀
⠠⠃⠥⠗⠝⠬⠀⠓⠕⠞⠀⠊⠍⠏⠻⠋⠑⠉⠞⠊⠕⠝⠎⠀
⠠⠙⠑⠎⠏⠻⠁⠞⠑⠀⠿⠀⠁⠖⠑⠉⠰⠝⠀
⠠⠮⠀⠎⠥⠝⠀⠊⠎⠀⠇⠐⠕⠇⠽­⠀⠏⠁⠎⠨⠝⠀
⠠⠝⠕⠀⠐⠕⠀⠙⠜⠑⠎⠀⠞⠕⠀⠛⠑⠞⠀⠞⠕⠀⠉⠇⠕⠎⠑⠀
⠠⠃⠇⠁⠵⠬⠀⠞⠕⠀⠝⠕⠹⠬⠰⠎⠀⠔⠀⠁⠀⠠⠃⠇⠁⠉⠅⠀­⠠⠎⠑⠁⠀

yellow breasted
blue and red feathers
tiny smiles
I see it all

simple chirps
fluttering wings
gentle tunes
I hear it all

songs that soothe my soul
melodic tenor
I feel it inside

they're the sweetest songs
I ever heard