The girl who knew everything,

Remained sorrowful and alone. Scared and hopeless.

 

Nothing could solidify the emptiness that lived in her mournful heart.

No amount of heavy tranquil rain or drop of sugar full, succulent berries could sworn over her departed conscious mind.

 

For what is the point of life?

 

She knew every aspect of her miserable life.

All she ever was to be was a vasal of someone else’s pleasure,

A beautiful toy that was to be used over and over again until it grew rotten and disfigured.

Never to be used again until found once more by a decrepit, remorseless being.

Doomed to live a life of repeated abuse and distress.

Never to find true love or comfort in a world so cold and desolate.

 

For what is the point of life?

 

This is what her future entailed, a string kept puppet with countless owners that would use her time and time again until she was to be used no more and replaced by something anew.

 

Frightened and Alone. She ran away never to look back or say farewell.

 

For what is the point of life?

 

The girl who knew everything.

Knew every aspect of her departed life she left behind.

Nothing satisfied her, not even the luscious taste of nature’s sweet nectar.

 

Though her new life looked dismal and empty, from this point forward, she knew nothing.

Every aspect of her new life was unpredictable and unknowing.

 

She panic, flustered and irritated, everything was in a spiral.

Falling, further and further away from reality.

 

She panic, agitated and exasperated, everything was in disarray.

Falling, further and further away from reality.

 

She panic, depressed and miserable, everything was awry.

Falling, further and further away from herself.

 

For what is the point of life? She asked herself.

She knew every aspect of her miserable life before,

She knew nothing of her current life now.

 

Nothing will ever satisfy her, not even the bittersweet sensation of death itself.