Willing to fight

She was just 18
And I saw her through a window
Reflecting back the image
Of who I am now.

A set of slides
Running inside my brain
And I was just like her.

Broken and disturbed.

There was no fear for bleeding
For screaming,
For connecting the walls
With a fist.
There was only chaos
And in the midst of it all
The need to find
What she really was.

I was sad for myself.

And then I saw her friend
In the pink and white dress
And was remembered
Of what could have been.

Zeven steps until the door,
Zeven steps and no more,
Or it will hurt someone she loves.

Voices outside of myself
Guiding the visions inside of me.
I just want the control back.

And in the end,
I guess,
I am still that teenage girl,
Wanting to be whole
And willing to fight.
Wanting to know who she is
And willing to fight.

Maybe if I for once could scream loudly,
Will I be able to let it all go?