A Cry for Help

I look at her and I'm trying to see it. Where is it? And, why can't I see it? Where is that beauty I hear people talking about? I'm looking at her bare for the world to see, my eyes wide and looking right at her. Will someone please show me what I am not seeing? I see ugly scars, stretch marks, and blubber that goes on and on. I don't see beauty anywhere. I see someone who is hurting, angry, and dying inside. I see a soul screaming for help, and cries falling on deaf ears. The only ones who offer hope are mutes who cannot speak the words she needs to hear. Embraced by only those who have no limbs to hold her tight as she cries. Starless nights, and sunless days, both of which cold, and endless. Time stands still, with no hope of the sadness to end. The dim light of medicinal relief swallowed at night, brings cloudy days, false smiles, and physical sickness. Unbearable pain from somewhere inside her, tearing her apart. Reaching and begging, but nothing to hold on to. All faith she once had is gone, and no one to guide her out of her private little hell.