She’s a victim
no, she’s a survivor
she shouldn’t be ashamed
but she is anyway.
she knows it’s over
but she’s under its hold
No sleep
no rest for the wicked
evil, horrible, rotten things like me
with ticks under my skin
and maggots on my feet
and breath like regrets and stale death
Every minute of the day is a battle
every day of the week is a war
with IEDs and mine fields
nerve gas and nuclear strikes
I wish I had an atomic bomb
to blast my way to an armistice
The roxies looked so lonely
on the glass coffee table
so I took them in,
best friends forever.
everything felt soft
nothing hurt anymore