With this broken heart, I cry.
I cry for something that will never return.
I cry for myself, for I will never be the same.

These tears are mourning for who I was.
For whom I wanted to be.
For the years that have been stolen from me.

The mourning never ends.
There are times that it feels fleeting.
There are times it feels surreal.

Yet nothing seems to stem the grief.
Not the love of family.
Not the support from friends.

So, I cry alone.
Mourning who I used to be.
Before all the pain and the pills.

Before I as broken in two.
I cry for the old me.
For she had so many dreams she wanted to achieve.