she sits there
in a room full of people
friends, acquaintances and strangers
but they are just a blur.

outside, she appears nonchalant
cool, calm, and normal
but inside
no one can see the turmoil
she screaming, crying, dying
she's banging on the walls of her prison
and no one can hear her.

for months it rages on
but the origin she knows not
only that it haunts her
sending her to the very edge of her sanity.
self-manipulation brings comfort
if only for a moment
for just a little while.

but she is a coward
as she cannot take that first step
to descend downward to empty oblivion.

but still no one hears
not even those whom she holds dear
no one, no one

she suffers alone.

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