Helpless as a dead person she is,
Surrounded by a serious bleakness,
When she deny the power of her own thoughts,
When she neglects her own feeling,
For making everyone else glee.
She shrink herself a lot,
For someone else’s comfort.
Now she is being overlooked,
She is being ignored,
By no one else, but herself.
She is no more recognised by her soul,
As her mind is now a clay, ready to mould.
Her mental illness now spreads,
Denying her own existence, her self-worth.
Stuck between who she is,
Who she wants to be,
And who she should be.
She needs her voice of thoughts again,
Her power of existence to cure her pain.
She needs her forgotten value back in her life,
To make her dead thoughts alive.
Via daily prompt: Deny