04/01/26: Debilitated Voice

Day by day, the intensifying self-loathe that crushes me as I lay awake each morthing, fortifies itself to be trapped in my putrid soul. I have no voice, for the thought of others listening would be too impossible for a child as young as I. Green so raised to turn a blind eye to each suffering, yet given one to deal with on my own. As I run to doors for aid, each one shuts at my face before I could secure my fingers around the knob. Though this door, refusing me of entrance, allows me to let others pass through. I watch as nature blooms in their perspective, while each flower I walk pass, all wither away.