Sorrow of the abused

Only so much can a person handle before finally losing their grip.
No more strength nor will in them to keep holding onto the last string of hope which was something keeping them happy.
Putting on a mask was the only thing they knew how to do.
Even the strongest lose their strength in them to fight.
Their past continues to haunt  them until they are no longer capable of lifting themselves back up.
Abuse. Physical, verbal, sexual.
It's something they have lived through.
Each day they fear of their past repeating itself.
What... What if it never stops? What if the torture and the pain continue?
Locked in a cage of their own mind, without uttering a sound, asking for mercy of others for the torment to stop.
Will it? Shall it?
Yeah... They don't know either.
What happens next? Makes them wonder.
Yeah.
Going back to their cages, locking them up once more, curling up on the cold ground, in the darkness. Not to be seen until the next time they attempt to reach out, set a foot outside their imprisoned minds...
Yeah...
Until next time.