She tries to drown
in bottles of deceiving
darkness, floundering
in empty hopes,
spinning threadbare
yarns of dreary
despair. A maniacal
laugh plasters
onto her pain, sucking out
color like a bloated
leech, hungry for dreaded
delight. Wheels whir
and needles knit knots,
clicking in desperate
apathy. Tangled
thoughts run wild
like frenzied weeds,
strangling the stars.
In mourning, the night
shrouds the sleeping sun.
Happy to be in hell,
she cries through eternity.