An expression of distaste
Crosses her face
A nihilist dream
Or so it seems
The potions and pills of Saturday night
Haunted her through her parents empty fight
The rush of silver
Sanity to pilfer
Cherry red juice down her palm
All she heard the next morning where The empty words of a psalm
The Priest has abandoned her soul
She doesn't care; God is merely a black Hole
School could never understand
For the meaning in her eyes is banned
Her friends gather round after class
The Strays are gathered here at last
Alone until lonely together
A misfit group strong as a feather
A fantasy dream to fly
Until one by one they're allowed to die
She strives for an unearthly perfection
And unhealthy addict for correction
A complexion so sweet
A silent heart beat
And her coffin lowered into the ground
The princess of The Strays she was Eternally crowned
YOU ARE READING
Dying to be Alive
Non-FictionThis is my story. This is it. This grossly beautiful thing called life, and the monster that gatekeeps happiness. [the daily struggle of living with depression, and all of the baggage it brings with it]
