Beneath the sheet of an angel silk
My finger glides gently along the threads
Eyes wandering as the light perfectly glistens upon its shine
Questioning its perfection
All this leads to a mirror
Its direct in my path
Glancing at a stranger
Beside pure bliss
\"I am not perfect\"
Such a simple thing to feel the urge to scream
But yet, I cannot resist the words falling from my lips
As though to defend a fact that need not be defended
As though to look into those hazel eyes to convince what is accepted
I am but a shell of a woman I knew
She is gone it seems
And the defiant anger angst is consumed with negativity
Breaking the cycle of heartache and dismay
What can unchain the woman from depression?
Is it a pill that slides down her throat?
Is it the needle that the nurses always resort to in healing the pain?
Is it the doctors with there indifferent reaction?
I cannot seem to get a resolution
Waiting for days where this reflection is mirrored beautifully with the silk sheet
At this moment it seems unlikely