It was dark, cold and cramped.
I thought I'd never get out.
It seemed impossible.
The demons were consuming me and I couldn't do anything about it.

Anything.

Then there was a sprout of light.
It almost blinded me amidst the dark.
I felt myself breathing a little easier.
My eyes shot open.

It was there.
Right there.
Just beyond my reach.
Can I make it?

Knees bleeding after making contact with the floor.
Legs stained with red.
But the light, it guided me.
I was so close.

There's always light at the end of the tunnel.
You'll never make it unscathed.
But that's okay because you're free.

Like a feather picked up by a gust of wind.
                                                                           Fly.

Warm arms cradling a cold boy.
Reassurance is only temporarily comforting.
Tears stain the boy, seeping into his soul.

He knows they care, but they cannot help.
The scars covering his arms are apparent.
But he doesn't care anymore.

It helps him relax and washes away his sorrows.
The warm arms grip tighter.
"I won't go away."

He knows they care.
He's well aware.
But from beneath the warm cocoon.
He picks up a razor.

In a world full of people, nobody can help.
You live in isolation; full of self-doubt.

There was a little girl,
Never seen, never heard,
Her heart ached,
Her vision blurred.

Hannah drank until dawn,
Her knuckles bruised and ******,
For a woman, she was brawn,
Oh, what an unlucky little girl.

She looked next to the sink, there were tablets,
Hoping to forget Hannah's abusive habits,
The little girl heard screams and shouts,
Her tears stung and she swallowed her doubts.

Crashing, crying and threats,
The little girl cries behind the door,
Hannah cannot pay her debts,
She looks next to the sink and finds her answer.

The little girl slashes her wrists,
Taking more tablets, this makes six.
The bruises will fade tomorrow,
Though, the blood continues to flow.