One, may appear to be alive -
Their blood is pumping,
Their heart is beating,

But their soul has died
A thousand deaths -
Their soul is withering away -
It is slowly, but surely, fleeting.

It becomes impossible
For one to live their life,
Constantly trying to survive,
Whilst not freely breathing,

How does one celebrate their life,
When fear of living
Has buried them alive -
When their only hope 'sanity'
Is constantly threatening
That it is leaving?

By Lady R.F. (C)2017