Engulfed in silence so quiet it speaks,
the flickering computer screen
dimly illuminates the gloom.
In her mind she writes her eulogy
of lost, empty words,
as she whittles on limbs made of flesh, not wood.
Sticking her finger in her throat,
she vomits the iniquities mixed
with Prozac and gin,
and her heavy-lidded eyes tear.
She used to be daddy's little girl,
but, after blow after blow,
no sense appears, and all that
remains is distrust and pain.
Gone is the silver lining,
ripped, stained, and forgotten
it lays discarded,
tainted beyond repair.
Surrounded by crumpled, damp photographs, irrevocable hurt,
and forgotten dreams,
she lays down her head and
gives in.
 
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