This is how she looked

There she was.

So scared. So fragile.

Unable to say a word.

All beaten down.

Clothes ripped. 

Dirty. 

Pitiful.

Unable to be herself.

Unable to say what she really meant.

So she went with it; she let it happen.

All of it.

All the bad; all the good.

‘Get that weight off your shoulders.’

‘Lift it.’ The shy voice inside her head continuously said.

‘One day, maybe.’ She replied back. 

When she could; when she wanted to, she thought she would be able to.

‘Any day now’ She told herself. She carried on.

She was the waves in her ocean.

Wild. Without thought; without any direction.

But that glorious day never came. 

She was still the same.

Same old, same old.

Alone. 

Unable. 

Unwilling.

Not herself, not pretty.

Unrecognisable.

Unable to paint.

She was what she was. 

A nasty mush.

A shadow in the dark.