by Princess T. Zafra
"Hello there, my little soldier.
How's your time being an actor?"
Tears were running down,
Flooding everything,
It is making her drown.
"Such a quiet time you have here,
Can I knock, knock, knock,
On your mind once again?"
Silence was everywhere
She is again in nowhere
The knocking is the
The only thing she can hear.
"Knock knock, who is there?
Your daily reminders!
Daily reminders?
Daily reminders.
Who will remind you
Of what reality is."
She silently pleads for mercy.
She doesn't want to experience
Being blind to reasoning.
She doesn't want to be
Deaf again, to her true feelings.
"Hush now child, their happiness
Is always the reason for your sadness.
Their laughs and smiles
Are your screams and cries.
Do you still want to sacrifice
Or do you want to end your misery
With this knife?"
Too tired to think
Too tired to even blink
She just wants to close her eyes
Never wanted to see the blue skies.
Never again to do some fake smiles.
"Another day for them to make you suffer,
At the end of that day, again,
You'll be questioning, will this be your last supper?
People might say you are a fighter,
But we both knew that you are just a coward
In constant fear of being devoured."
Death is a temptation for the weak.
It is what they would always seek.
Monsters are not under her bed
They're inside her, being well fed.
Every day is a never-ending battle
She tortures herself with words
She heals herself with words
She slowly wound herself with words
All her battle scars, all her battle cries.
Are from words that always seems
To hold nothing.
She is a survivor in her battle.
She is a survivor of her war.
Her battle cry that she only can hear.
It always would fall on her deaf ears.
She only has herself to keep herself alive.
For everyone can be the reason for her
Falling asleep on her deathbed.
They're all laughing, smiling,
All well and alive
While she will slowly
But surely, dies inside.
Her battle helmet is still on
Hiding the bloodthirstiness
For her blood.
It will be hidden to many,
She is fine,
Still have plenty of days.
To share her thoughts for a penny.
She might die, but she will still fight.
She will die, so all she can do is fight.
Her suffering is her enjoyment,
That no one will understand.
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