I’m so tired and lonely.
I want to lie in somebody’s arms.
Like a baby.
Connected.
And I want to escape from this place forever.
But I can’t find the escape, the connection or the right arms.

The right eyes don’t look.
The hands I love don’t reach.
The voice I long for is saying hurtful things.
The face I want to see is turned.
And the warmth I once felt for a moment turned into a breeze.

It doesn’t accept me.
It blows against me.
Pushes me down.
The last bit of hope to feel something other than the loneliness, the exhaustion, sadness.
It left me.

More empty, more defeated.
But what did I expect?
As if anyone would ever want to hold a baby that keeps crying.
That doesn’t sleep tight.
That is never happy to live.

Always so broken.
Lost in a world that it was forced into.
To live a life that’s way too much to handle and to carry?
Nobody wants to hold a baby that became a grown woman with too much hurt.