She lays in bed at night, curled up and silent,
Desperately clutching the fabric of her sweater
As if its threads are keeping her together.
Her eyes like two fountains of glittering saltwater in the darkness.

Under the blankets of shadows she shakes,
Like a silent earthquake; trembling and destructive.
She's falling apart, but who would notice?
Her pain is masked behind a carefully constructed disguise.
Her plastered on smile has started to fade now,
Old wallpaper in this beaten, weathered house.

When the sun sinks under the trees,
Monsters creep into her room and whisper in her ears.
They sink their teeth into her skin and the poison seeps in,
Coursing recklessly through her veins until it has reached her very heart.
A heart that now beats timidly, crushed into tiny sharp fragments,
And grafted together by loosely tied glimmering threads.

Sleep slips underneath her eyelids like a gift,
A temporary escape from the storm brewing inside her.
"Help me," she whispers as she fades away,
Lifting off the dead decaying landscape of her mind.
Her life is a sad mournful song, perpetually stuck on rewind.