The whispers are there
They will always be there.
You walk with your head down, wishing they would stop.
They don't and they never will.
Until one night you go out.
Which was a mistake.
You can hear the whispers that follow you everywhere like your shadow.
He grabs you and you scream but no one hears.
He shushes you but you can't stop.
You don't want this, but he does.
You scream and scream until your throat bleeds.
He leaves you there, just a broken body.
The whispers are gone now replaced with something new.
The pushing and shoving.
The fights and cries.
They push you until you break, until you can't handle it any longer.
They know your in pain but they thrive in you sadness.
As they kick and scream at you they don't notice as you fade away. That the damage you did to yourself that morning does it's wonders.
And you are once again just a broken body.
YOU ARE READING
Fragments of My Heart
Poetryfrag·ment noun plural noun: fragments ˈfraɡmənt/ a small part broken or separated off something. {trigger warning: rape, suicide, blood, depression, anxiety, cutting, suicide attempts}
