Unwell

She shrinks as another gush of wind came rushing by.

The rustling sound of the dried brown leaves resembles that of the turmoil.

Her blood freezes with the slightest, her head spins with the madness.

She succumbs to daily torment, both physical and mental.

Every morning was greeted with violent urge to purge.

Everyday seems a new day of mourning, to more pain, to more discomfort.

Every hour, she's just ridiculously dependent on pills.

Nobody could feel her, cause she's trying to keep.

For all they know, she's just constantly tired.

For all she knows, this pain is taking too much of her to control.