She folds, curls, and tightens herself into a taut ball.

She no longer moves onwards.

She isolates herself in a compact, unyielding pall.


She clams up and falls inwards.

She rejects, repels, and returns no phone call.

She shuns company and dares not look outwards.

She strains, struggles, and can barely stand tall.

She crumbles, breaks down, and chokes on her words.

She tears hope asunder and lets it fall.


Depression and self-doubt bind her soul with steel cords.

Her heartbreaks leave her bitter as gall. 

Fear, guilt, and anxiety come rushing in, smugly dealing their cards.


Oh, why for help don’t you call, my dear?