Frowned Upon
My spirit is being crushed, pushed, shoved, beaten down. My wings battered, Im pinned to the ground. Holes from the rocks thrown gape open, exposing whats left of me. The feathers that once held me high, are now scattered around like trash, forgotten. Im frowned upon by the survivers, the fighters. Im left to die, with whats of my tortured soul.
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kaitlyn.m.grady
Art Therapy student at Cedar Crest College. Art and psychology are my passions. Helping people is what gives me meaning in life. I am an advocate to reduce the mental health stigma, and I am sharing my story through my writings.
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