They told me it was okay to cry.
But these tears have left hundreds of scars
Auto-biographies written in my skin
All etched with the hopes of finding some peace
Because I only see war.
They told me to breathe.
But my breath is caught
In the windpipes of a woman
Who found her daughter dead last month.
How can I breathe
When the noose
Wrapped around that child’s neck
Should have been my own?
My ribcage no longer protects me
From the words of the people
Who haunt me day and night.
I am vulnerable.
But I don’t want to be saved.
I haven’t felt sane in months.