Poor girl,

she sings her songs

loudly

like she cries her soul out every night

loudly.

everytime her ballpoint pen makes contact with the paper

it spills ink all over it.

Poor girl,

she bring her knees close to her chest,

resenting the cold bathroom floor she sits on.

she feels in beating in there

her chest cage guarding it so delicately

it makes her sick

this sensitive thing

that kills her

and ironically

keeps her alive.

Poor girl,

she turn another page and ink spills all over it

"One too many boys." She writes.

"One too many drinks." She adds.

"One too many mistakes." She regrets.

Poor girl,

she can consume her poison

and release her blood

she can tie the noose

and sound the gun

But nothing will work.

and nothing can.

or ever will.

She gets up

and stares back at this platinum blonde relfection of herself.

she puts on one mroe coat of lip gloss

and smiles an unsatisfied smile.

only a frown can appreciate.