30. YEARS

"There's a small whisper in my head,

Calling me to wake up,

Again and again,

When I found myself dead"

__

Her eyes blinked open. She couldn't straighten herself. She was weak and worn out of energy. Darkness lies within her room, cold and eerie. And she was lying in her own blood's pool. It sticks all over her cloth. Stinging pain strike again in her head making her escapes a series of 'hiss' and incoherent words grumbling and moaning in pain, torment.

Was this not enough, why was she suffering? What sin she had done to suffer this? Why was Allah punishing her? Years of running, hurt, pain, torment, suffering, quietness, anguish fearful, years of maybe, years of later, years of never; head full of questions, why's, years of trauma, years of chains, roaming in her head. Her shattered pieces laid in front of her and she could do nothing to repair her own self.

Was she tired? Yes. Was she dying? Yes, she was a dying soul in a living body.

"You will never be enough"