• Crushed by my reaction .
    Torn from my life.
    Peering around corners for strangers.
    Looking for red on my knife.

    Blackend fingers.
    From the unspeakable tale.
    Scared of being caught.
    Holding onto the rail.

    Lost it once.
    But found it somewhere near.
    What's lost is not mine anymore.
    My being is unclear.

    Shrill cries echoing , but don't ask.
    You'd sooner loose your voice.
    It is not her decision in this.
    None of her choice.

    Begging for some answers.
    She wipes wetness with the sleeve.
    Staining the pure white.
    She musn't leave.

    Two chairs are now one.
    Full but not really at all.
    Scaring the bypassers into sympathy.
    Stand there, watch her fall.