silent whispers

.....

my thick mascara dripping down my face, bleeding into my wounds, staining my blood. my collarbones poking through my pale skin. my breasts still imprinted with hand marks. my waist lacerated with purple and blue scratches, grazes, gashes, carvings. everything. my hips and thighs covered in my own disfigurements. rope burns around my ankles, stinging with every step i take. pain is all my emotions allow me to feel. endless, numbing pain. why even try to feel happy? how can i? would you?

usually i try not to waste my words. not that anybody cares. i need to conserve as much energy as possible each day. by the end of it, i always feel drained. less life in me than before. i have nothing to say, nothing worth speaking about. i mutter words under my breath every now and again, to stop myself going insane. even though I'm far past that. the words never make any sense, and just come out as a jumble of confused syllables.