From Within

There is a lone figure
standing atop a hill gazing all around.
The harsh wind is unforgiving.
It tears at her frail silhoutte.

Her face is worn and heavy,
her breathing labored,
as though she were struggling
in a sea of insecurity.

Her eyes sing of unknown sorrows
buried deep in her soul,
melodies of anguish,
of a long forgotten hope.

She lost this battle long before it ever began,
she no longer has the will to fight, 
enclosed in 
Failure's suffocating hands.

Tears stain her face and burning memories
continually haunt her vision.
Voices churn in her head,
reaping seeds sown by 
a deep rooted deception.

Pulsating sounds,
voices that echo inside her head,
break her down, 
they steal her breath...

There,
a lone figure
stands atop a hill,
weeping...