Written | Breathe

Damaged beyond repair.
Left in despair.
I can’t come up for air.

The pain
Of a thousand sharp blades,
I can’t escape
The ache.

Tears, a flood,
Draining from my eyes.
But you don’t see my cry.

Merely a shell.
This isn’t me.
But this is hell.

Teresa Maree | Jan/2018