mental health, poetry

The Inability

A Poem

No one ever knew of her pain.

She wore her cross that she was born to wear so well.

She hid every attack like a concealed weapon used in a mass shooting.

There are several of those each year.

Her attacks were several times each day. 

Some may say,

She is absolutely ok.

Yet, when she looks in the mirror, she is reminded of the inability 

she has to fight.

The inability she has to not give in.

Sometimes she stands with her hands lifted up,

showing her stance in this war of her inner core,

She waves the white flag, but there is still no cease fire.

Wow, now she is edging to expire.

Yet, no one ever knew her pain.

She smiles and some may say.

She is absolutely ok.

Originally published on Medium.

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