Overwhelmed

Stress poured over her like a wave,
putrid syrup holding her down,
infecting her mind.

Thick ropes keeping her bound,
only a black fog at the end of the tunnel.

Voices call her name in every tounge,
the sweet serenades like red-hot coals
pressed against pale lips.

The cold burns with intensity,
the reproachful looks force her
into reatreat on the bright barren day.

She screams and the trees alone hear,
for the wind grips the world in silence.

The moon is high,
the stars are bright.

Yet there is only darknesss.