She strains to move, to breathe, to live. I share her truth.
Her deeply sorrowful eyes unveil her thousand-mile stare,
screaming those torturous thoughts—I've know far too well.
I care, but do not dare to share my pain, my heart, my truth:
It's definitely not food, but PAIN that she has swallowed.
Yet in vain, she dreams of whom she was inside that
fortress she alone created, merely to exclude those
too familiar, agonizing and tormenting lies of love.
Why should it be that love for her, being sown with lies,
could harvest only pain? Her lonely thoughts implore:
"......why me? Help Me! SAVE Me! LOVE ME!"
Her silent, unrequited prayers are deafening---
at least to me—because I know her one true pain.
Believing surely that of truth and love, she's most
certainly unworthy. Her pleas, unfettered, battle those
darkened clouds enshrouding her despairing heart.
.....A silent answer sifts—her burdened spirit lifts!
Through unconditional, intrepid love of self, immediately
recognized, embraced and understood, at once she is
empowered by new envisioning and true enlightening!
Past incredulities suspended, she now embraces her
life's astounding rebirth—by terminating swallowed pain.