In my mind, I see her. She is sitting in the corner of her bathroom, hiding from her family and friends. I see the blade cutting deeper and deeper into her body, her mind, and her soul, and I feel helpless. She cuts anywhere she knows people won’t see; her hip or her ankle. Anywhere that is covered by the clothes that hide her true struggles. The tears stream heavy down her cheeks and she fades into the walls that slowly close in around her.
One night, she called me in tears. He had “broken her heart”….again and she “couldn’t handle her life”. She gave me her love and goodbyes and hung up the phone. It was 16 hours filled with tears. I was too late to stop her from the blade. I found her in her bathroom, between the walls that cursed upon her and yelled violently. She was out of her mind and a small amount of blood ran down her arm, the razor on the floor. I wrapped my arms around her and began to cry. She was only fourteen, with her whole life ahead of her, and she was willing to throw it away with one bad day.
The hours consisted of thoughts between dreams and reality. When she slept, I would hold her. In those hours, my prayers revolved around her name and body. I was her church and within me she was awakened to the Lord’s love for her. When we were both awake, most of the time we sat in silence but occasionally I would whisper a prayer into her ear and to the sound of my voice she would fall into deep sleep.
The last five hours were the hardest. Through the Lord, she found her voice to say all of the things she could never find the words for. Her voice was faint and kind. I had never heard such regret in what she had done in the last few months. In a matter of hours she had gained the belief that someone greater than herself, had felt her pain. She found that the Lord had suffered just as she did and that through all the immature actions and the self-inflected wounds God had been there for her.
During those 16 hours, she was mine to love and cherish. She was my favorite glass that had shattered and I was on the floor slowly piecing her back together. I held her until I knew she could be let go and wouldn’t fall. Till I knew she was strong enough to stand on her own two feet and face what had happened and she let me hold her until I was ready to let her go. To give her to the Lord and let her feel his embrace.



Joined November 2007

  • Artist

Artist's Description

it’s not perfect. just something that happened.
a bump in the road between friends.
she struggled to leave the drinks and drugs behind.
and I struggled to save her.
She is my angel with broken wings.

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