A young girl stood on the bridge
Tears silently flowing on her pale cheeks
The fear written in her eyes, were beyond her years
The darkness that clouded her brain, foggy
For the demons have won the war

Couldn’t they hear my silent screams for help?
Couldn’t they feel my pain?
Couldn’t they see through the fake smiles?
Maybe they were afraid of the monster too.
She thought, as she stood on the bridge

The pills she had drank a week before,
Didn’t execute the desired intention.
The razor blade had only made a mark.
The rope cracked underneath her weight
This will work.

The ache in her soul ripped at her gut
Days of endless struggle and sleeplessness nights catching up
But the monster fights back with more vice
A stronger grasp of shrewdness

She stood on the bridge
The place her demons had called her to be.
A strangers hand touched her
From the crown of her head
To the back of her spine.

Unknowingly, freeing her from the monster.
Seems like I’ll live to see another day
She thought .

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    Brigida Imolia

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