By an anonymous author.

“I’m lost,”
She screams,
But the words seem silly
And they never quite make it out.

“Yesterday I tried to cut myself with a razor, mum,”
she says
as she stands in front of the mirror
letting the unsung words trickle onto the carpet
As if they were blood.

Her mum walks in with the basket of fresh linen
“Mum,”
She says,
“I wish I could tell you”
“Sweetheart,”
She replies
“if you would only open a window.”