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