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Abira Muhammad May 2020
Every night has it's own horrors,
when I'm alone.
I overthink all the terrors,
that fight to ****.

People leave eventually,
but not before fake advice,
which leaves their mouth flatly
while my mind fights to see the point.

"Suicide doesn't end the pain,
it passes it to someone else"
But what if there is no one
to pass the pain onto.

This is an ongoing battle,
between my heart and my mind.
Another word,
and my heart will win the fight.

I fight to be alone,
yet I can't stand my own presence.
Each time the sun rises,
my body magics another scar.

I am a flower,
amongst the rest.
Yet I am lost,
because I am grey against the rest.

I'm sorry I didn't speak,
because of the words that left your mouth,
and landed like arrows,
not allowing my heart to breathe.

Now every word that leaves
is measured.
Making sure there is no poison,
so another can breathe.

                           *
Her parents told her to be happy,
coz angels don't cry.
Angels can fly said,
and jumped.

— The End —