untamed. crowding demons. tied to whispers that are too proud to silence.
she carries a self. consumed in commanding hatred. as shattered glass tempting to a child.
she cries in the neglectful nights. confined in lonely separation. with overstretched prayers passing a cold life. into an ever inviting emptiness.
God heals the broken.
she believed that to be true.
yet at midnight, she would stare helplessly at the skies for a generous sign. a guiding light to settle a fatigued heart safely to rest.
why do bad things happen to good people?
she wondered if she was truly good. with roughly drawn edges. had God failed to remember her with the mentioned; the lucky ones who found a comfort in His warmth.
tired of deserted needs. she slips into her bathtub; rose-colored, with lavender scented candles in-between. dying in fainting flickers. one dull sigh after another. closing inconsolable wounds.
taking the water in. slowly. down to her last breath. dreaming only of embracing peace. within an immeasurable isolation. that had the final word to speak.
