This is where it happens
Nobody knows a thing
Nobody knows that she sits up on the bed
Crying every night for hours on end
This is where she writes and writes
Until her hands ache and lock
But she keeps going because of the paper
The paper is the only thing that listens to her
And the pen helps express herself onto the page
For the pages have caught more tears for her anyone in her life
It's seen the red puffy eyes
The scars on the wrists and counting
This room is where it all happens

© Aries Andino