S.o.t.S. Entry #5

A thin person with long dark hair wearing a pale gray fuzzy top has their head buried in their left hand. The photo is a side profile of them from their right, and sunlight beams through an unseen barrier, casting shadows on them and the terra-cotta looking wall behind them.
Photo by Carolina Heza on Unsplash
The light is weak,
The glass is cracked;
It's hard to speak
When you feel attacked.
Remember that time?
Remember who you were...
Is it a crime,
Or something you deserve?
The ray of hope grows dim.
You hold the glass to your chest.
The prognosis is grim--
"Just hope for the best."
Curl into a tight ball
And think the words that cannot be spoken:
How am I to stand tall,
And how long have I been this broken?

– Kathee

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