When you throw your head down
On your pillow at night
And bury your hair in the silky-smooth fabric
When you pray to g-d above
“Give me strength to move forward. To get out of bed the next morning.”
Haunted by tragedy,
No one knows if you’ll make it,
But You


When you fear even the slightest of treacheries,
Your only hope balancing on the unreliable truth that you are not alone.

“Dig yourself out of this filthy hole,” they say. "It’s dark and unwelcoming. "
But they have not seen horror through your eyes. They have never been there.

Maybe they should sympathize. Or maybe not.
Compassion’s power rests solely on one person who will only go as far as their attitude will allow.

The girl who is awoken every hour of the night, like clockwork,
with vivid dreams of the worst times their imagination can manufacture.

The girl who is



Haunted






By








Tragedy.