She sat outside in the dark.
Alone, with just her calming cigarettes.
And her music, listening to songs.
Songs that belonged to a playlist,
Called scars, a playlist she hears.
When she’s sad, depressed, and alone.
She stares up at the stars.
Stars that are her only light.
The ones that only care, listens.
Millions upon millions in the twilight.
But she still feels more alone.
The fresh cigarette smoke helps calm.
They’re her fresh air from sadness.
The sadness is heavy like rocks.
Rocks on her small, weak shoulders.
She doesn’t know what to do.
How to relieve the unbearable pain.
She wants to sit up straight,
But the weight is too much.
Her shoulders are sore, she’s sore.
The pain can’t be released alone.
But nobody is willing to help.
The weight’s too much for everyone.
She’s left alone to bear it,
Carrying throughout the days and nights.
The cigarette smoke helps her breath,
Underneath all the rock’s hard weight.
She doesn’t know how much longer,
How much more she can take.
She’s getting tired, worn out, weak.
Doesn’t know how to get out,
Out from underneath all the weight.