Bipolar Life- The Journal #74- “Suicide Cries”

Where something beautiful should be, lies a vacant space only filled with the waste of pain. Years of abuse scavenged every last bit of light—a broken mind from a broken heart.

Poetry -Empty

..Beating her in and out. And there flying free, Her dreams escape her now. As morning sun arises, And newness hollers, "Free!" Lies the skeleton of survival, No longer needed or in need.