Her Darkness

Her eyes were brown and beautiful, yet empty and sad. 
There was a devil on her shoulders that kept her from glad. 
She had a darkness on her mind that would make you cringe and stutter. 
She hid the depression behind the eyes that she got from her mother.
Enveloped by the darkness, she couldn’t see light. 
A life with no passion, every day was her night. 
The devil would come quick, slit her wrists, and then leave. 
So when he came, it hurt so bad it made her want to not breathe.
Escaping the world was in her dreams every night. If you could feel her pain, it’d fill you with fright. 
She wanted to die, escape from the pain. 
In a land full of Abel’s she felt like a Cain. 
So beneath that pretty smile that you saw when she spoke, 
Was a quiet, painted darkness from a heart that was broke. 
She had the word beautiful twisted,
It wasn’t her clothes, money or lipstick,
That’s materialistic. 
Stop looking in the mirror picking your flaws out, you have a million beautiful things about you, I’ll point them all out. 
She wanted a surgery. I’m like look, c’mon, listen,
All the things you don’t have, they aren’t really missing. 
But no matter what I said, it went right by her. 
Her sadness spread inside her, like a violent fire. 
She cried on her bed, with an ice cold blade stuck to her wrists. 
If there was a worthy way for her to die, it wasn’t like this. 
But to her dismay, she woke up the next sunny morning. 
When she told me this story, my heart started yearning. 
I told her what I felt, told her I want her alive. 
She cried in my arms, but started to thrive.
Then she turned her mental expression around. 
I began to see a smile, instead of a frown. 
She called me her light, I called her my rose. 
I said she’d never die, I said she only grows. 
She had to go home, she couldn’t come back. 
When I got that news, my heart felt a crack. 
And just like every flower, she started to wither. 
Her darkness grew back, but I couldn’t be with her. 
She’d always be broken, lost, and incomplete. 
She was a complex puzzle with one lost piece. 
And it’ll never be found, never be discovered. 
She had to break out, she can’t keep it covered. 
She laid with a blade, in silence and fear. 
Her demons and darkness had driven her here. 
Put a pill in her mouth and then dropped to the floor. 
Just as she swallowed, she heard a knock on the door…
ED. NOTE: Krause is a junior at Wildwood Catholic High School. In an email to the Herald, Krause stated, “This is a poem that I wrote for an assignment in my British Literature class. It is purely a story and there is little truth behind the story. I wrote it to make people think and to tell a sad story as best I could. It takes inspiration from the artist Phora, and many of his songs, so I guess I should give him credit for a little bit. I recreated his flow in this poem, and that’s how I discovered the way to write this.”