cigarettes filled her lungs with disguised pleasure,

and temporarily deleted her sense of disappear

but even with her body’s brief numbness

her mind still felt the deathly chemicals that suffocated her happiness.

so she lit another and started again

feigning for the hushing of her mind

Say this Right. Of course you can’t, you’re stupid. Stop! Why are you even alive? What would they say? Be Perfect?

the melodies that play a skilled symphony, chiming, and ringing with treacherous thoughts cycle over and over like day and night

waiting. contemplating.

when will it end, she asks the sky,

and smiles when the stars wink back and she forgets the pains of her existence

waiting. hoping. faithfully coping.

her hips, tight; her back, sore; her mental, off

and yet through it all she still somehow breathes

waiting. breathing. living.

she continues to be and awaits her true being