the addiction was eating at her.
it picked and picked and picked
at every crevice of her mind,
and burned the importance
of her thoughts until it just,
consumed and consumed and consumed.
the self destruction was poetic
and beautiful, yet she could give it no justice,
it just craved and craved and craved.
the rattle of her next meal had
her knees scarred on the floor,
(the blood had dried up long ago).
lost in the prescription and broken pieces,
the lovely words drained away
and she was left alone with her mind,
and drowned and drowned and drowned.