What has become of us
We the people
In the land of boundless opportunity
We fail to help
Those from whom these options
Have been stolen.

We are a nation of sheep
Who push oppression under the rug
Who ignore internal injustice
We put on a prosperous facade
And when people dare to push boundaries
To expose these crises
We do everything we can
To deter them

Just keep quiet
And fit the mold we are designed for
From the time we are infants.
At the very second we take our first breath
Our life is all about us
And we are conditioned to believe
That nothing else matters.

But what about them?
What about the children
Who's innocence has been taken
By adults who should guide them?

What about the people
All around the world
Who are written off immediately
Because of mental illness's talons?

What about the women
Who are denied basic human rights
Who were brutally attacked
And blamed for it
Solely because of the body they were born with?

We cannot leave them
To fight against wolves by themselves
And yet,
Many of us turn the other way
We don't want to hear about it
Much less talk about it

So unless we choose to
Stand up and extend an empathetic hand
This nation of sheep
Will morally crumble.

I give off
Fake smiles
Broken laughter
An agile body
That wants nothing more than to give up
Shallow friendships
All the while I'm hoping
That I will someday believe it too.

Look closer
Dark circles and bags
Droop around my lifeless eyes
The glint that once glimmered
Has been stolen from them again.

Even deeper
And you will see scars
All my over feeble frame.
Read a little more carefully
And a story begins to unfold.
I wish I could read it to you
But fear has taken over.

What you don't see*
The psychological and physiological damage
That jamming a finger down my throat repeatedly
Has caused.
The insomnia that keeps me restless
And the nightmares that hold me captive
When I do steal a chance to sleep.
The flashbacks who's mercy I am at
They can pop up anywhere, any time, any day
Thanks for nothing, PTSD.
The anxiety that terrorizes my mind
As I fail over and over again
To prioritize.
The loneliness that breaks my bones
And the depression that keeps me unmotivated.
All the questions, specifically:
Why am I such a failure?*

So now do you see
Why I am falling to pieces?

Four and a half children die
Each day
The statistics say

This is a terrible problem
You say
You urge your employees to listen
To listen well
To watch for the warning signs
To prevent it
Yes, please
This is a problem
Each day
Four and a half children die
Because of child abuse

What if I told you
Your problem is bigger
So much bigger
Exponentially larger

Yes,
I would argue
That number needs to be
Adjusted

More like
Hundreds of thousands
Of Children
Die
Each day

As they are
Neglected
When then they should be loved
Verbally torn down
When they should be built up
Touched
Where they shouldn't be touched
They die
Slowly, painfully
They are
Alienated
Slowly, painfully
They sink away
Flipping inside out
Caving in
Only in their very depths
Do they find anything
Even remotely resembling
Solace
They are
Confused
They are
Angry
They are
Alone

There is no one
No one to talk to
No one to trust

At some point
Their senses cease to exist
They stop tasting
They stop smelling
They stop seeing
They stop hearing
They stop

Feeling

And everything goes
Black and
Numb

So they stumble
Eyes closed
Arms flailing
Thrusting there head above the waves

Sure, they're still breathing
But they're not
Alive

Knuckles that turned white
As I hold onto old addictions
They start to bleed red
So I let go.
At first, I feel blue
For I must overcome this
But my body wants to continue being comfortable.
Purple bruises cover my heart
As this is too much for me to handle.
Overtime,
A yellow light shines through my eyes
My face regains its pink and rosy hue
My world is not grey anymore
And finally, for the first time in years
I can see the world
In color once again.

I am not a slave to circumstance
A victim of consequence
I am not,
For I have a choice.

Everyday, I decide
Whether to hold on with my death grip
Or to succumb to the mayhem which
My life at one stage depended on.

While I still
Struggle with the urges to
Revert back to old habits
I will not.

While my body
Suffers from tremors of longing
For the self induced *****
That I used to punish myself with
I cannot.

While my mind
Still hurts with the pangs of confusion
As anxiety preys on
My already feeble brain
It would be easier just to cut or purge
I do not.

While I may be
Bent, damaged
And maybe even crazy
I, at this moment, remain
Unbroken.

I remember
A time
When all I desired
Was to fit in
Unharmed and unscathed.
But I never really fit the image
Or the clothing they tried to stuff me in
I carried a little extra skin
Creating every curve.
There was a time
When these curves disgusted me
And I did everything in my power
To hide them.
But why hide?
I was made a woman
Beautiful in stature and in knowledge.
So one day
I just said
"**** it."
I wasn't meant to blend in
But to speak out instead.
I am not ashamed of anything
And so I lay it all out for you
Every bit of me lays
Right in front of your beady eyes
*Here I am.