Her World, Jaded By The Past

Her orbs were always bloodshot.
In their depths hid suffering,
In them flickered despair,
That even destiny couldn’t do away with,
There was a dim in them;
The one that sutured of the cold,
Bottomless pit of depression.

Her lips curved upwards,
It wasn’t a happy and delightful beam;
Nope.
Hers was like shards,
That pierced deep into the soul;
The one that splintered her entire being,
The smile that revealed the deadness within her.

Her every chuckle was painful,
She had failed again,
The fall hurt like hell,
She turned to walk away.

Her desolate, dejected, and lone back,
Couldn’t be more obvious,
“You need to let go of the past.”
“You need closure,”
Her therapist’s words kept echoing in her mind,
She couldn’t let go.

How could she?
She laughed at her naivety,
A self-deprecating laugh,
She hated her new self,
She hated the false hopes she’d give herself,
But mostly, she loathed,
That she was silently fading into oblivion.

She was tired,
But she knew;
Those scars would always remain,
Whether in this lifetime or the next;
They were meant to remain in her jaded world.