Breathe
Little Miss Perfect curls into herself
She smashes her sandcastle to rubble once more
Again, again, again she’ll try.
But the towers are uneven,
The walls sag wearily,
Too many imperfections to keep it alive.
Failure! Failure! Disperse, I say!
The world is a rotting corpse filled with maggots
And she is the greediest maggot of them all
Whispers around her muffle her ears,
And she hisses and scratches at all who draw near.
Life is colorless, her eyes see red
Red, the color of her salvation
Salvation, from her empty existence
An existence of blockades thrown up all around her
She bites at the mirror,
Glares at herself,
And claws at her empty chest until her fingers are raw and red
Such a greedy maggot, seeking happiness, wherein lies none
Eyes skim lazily over water stained pages.
Another sunny day, another day to pass by
Golden light spills through the half covered window.
Lips curls contently, gaze lifts softly
Ivy pours out of a woven basket.
Handwritten scrawl covers most of the walls.
She breathes in the steam from her tea,
Turns the page and fades into her world
This is enough for her