stuck.
Stuck in place,
Stuck to the walls,
Stuck by the needle.
She cant find a way out,
Follow her tracks and you’ll find,
They lead to a pile of rubble,
Twisted shards of a broken masterpeice.
Shreds of what used to be,
Is all that still remains,
Of her once beautifly painted picture,
Enough to know what she’s missing,
Enough to never forget.
Longing to go back to that time,
And knowing it can never be so.
The turmoil she drowns in,
Laughs,
As she struggles to breach the surface,
A downward current swallows her whole,
Tugging on her spirit with feirce conviction.
Days and weeks pass,
The clock ticking away,
Pulling at her patients.
Shes waiting on the arrival,
Of some revelation in thought,
That will give her the contentment,
The strength,
The inner peace she so craves.
Her knight in shining armour never shows,
Comfortable lulibys smeared out of place.
Spoon,
Stir,
Cotton,
Syringe,
Another dose of bitter sweet fullfillment,
Swims through her veins.
Her eyes grow heavy,
Breath shallow.
She prays,
As unconcousness pulls the blanket over,
That this will be it,
That she’ll finally be able to rest her aching bones.
Her prayer never answered,
She awakens to the reacurring nightmare,
That everyday brings without fail.
Fed up and on the brink,
Endless slumber never looked so promising.
The decision is made,
Her next dance with the knife,
Will be her last.
No more razor blade kisses,
That scare to show her pain,
Not another poke of the needle,
Or smoke filled lung can save her now.
Venturing out of her black hole apartment,
Only to retreive the correct tool for the job,
In her mind,
The most satifying $5 she’d ever spend,
The last purchase she’ll ever make.
Slumped down in her porcelin casket,
Exchanging her last few breaths for a ticket out,
Stale blood pours from her wrists
Stuck in place,
Stuck to the walls,
Stuck by the needle.
She cant find a way out,
Follow her tracks and you’ll find,
They lead to a pile of rubble,
Twisted shards of a broken masterpeice.
Shreds of what used to be,
Is all that still remains,
Of her once beautifly painted picture,
Enough to know what she’s missing,
Enough to never forget.
Longing to go back to that time,
And knowing it can never be so.
The turmoil she drowns in,
Laughs,
As she struggles to breach the surface,
A downward current swallows her whole,
Tugging on her spirit with feirce conviction.
Days and weeks pass,
The clock ticking away,
Pulling at her patients.
Shes waiting on the arrival,
Of some revelation in thought,
That will give her the contentment,
The strength,
The inner peace she so craves.
Her knight in shining armour never shows,
Comfortable lulibys smeared out of place.
Spoon,
Stir,
Cotton,
Syringe,
Another dose of bitter sweet fullfillment,
Swims through her veins.
Her eyes grow heavy,
Breath shallow.
She prays,
As unconcousness pulls the blanket over,
That this will be it,
That she’ll finally be able to rest her aching bones.
Her prayer never answered,
She awakens to the reacurring nightmare,
That everyday brings without fail.
Fed up and on the brink,
Endless slumber never looked so promising.
The decision is made,
Her next dance with the knife,
Will be her last.
No more razor blade kisses,
That scare to show her pain,
Not another poke of the needle,
Or smoke filled lung can save her now.
Venturing out of her black hole apartment,
Only to retreive the correct tool for the job,
In her mind,
The most satifying $5 she’d ever spend,
The last purchase she’ll ever make.
Slumped down in her porcelin casket,
Exchanging her last few breaths for a ticket out,
Stale blood pours from her wrists
