In her head

The Crook

The Crook

She went to bed sleepy, as most people would,

she tried to fall asleep as fast as she could.

When sleep finally graced itself onto her now sound face,

the crook jumped out from his hiding place.

Making no sound, he took out a knife,

originally aiming to steal away her short life.

But he did something so very worse,

this next action was a thing quite unrehearsed.

He went over to her bed, and lifted up her poor head,

the look on her pale face showed she'd rather be dead.

Blankets were viciously and carelessly ripped away,

very soon in no clothes she was forced to lay.

Brute force made tears stream down her cheeks,

as she knew the pain could last up to weeks.

Closing her eyes, wishing for any kind of way out,

she thought she could do nothing but try not to pout.

When all was done, and all was thought,

she suddenly wished she been given the chance to have fought.

She was broken inside, a mirror of how she felt outside,

but there was no one she could possibly confine.

She was so helpless; it had to be her fault,

she went on thinking without a halt.

Her family kept trying to tell her it wasn't true,

but that didn't stop her from turning dark blue.

She went to bed scared at night, like nobody should,

tried to fight off flashbacks as best as she could.

They consisted of memories from her darkest time,

those dreams left her even more bitter than lime.

What could save her from this sad, disgraceful life? 

She was alone to deal with the internal strife. 

From a hole partially dug, she picked up the shovel, 

Her shouting quickly turned into a distant muffle . 

In a gloomy place, she had knelt to hope and to pray

wishing that for the days to perish and fade away.

This is real life, where there are no happy ever afters, 

Her sorrows drowned out in another's laughter.