And so she walked to escape the pain behind her.  

She would have run, if she could.


Melding in a world that gives no comfort for her conformity.

She will always end up alone.

Abandoned in a world of superficialities.


The drums she hears offer a temporary distraction.

Or is that her heart?

No. That froze so long ago,

And has shattered into a thousand pieces since,


Scattered across the wake that she has left,

From her escape of the assailants.  

She tries to glue it together with glucose,

And a healthy overdose of carbohydrates.

A consistent dose of acedaminaphin and caffeine,

Tide her over until her next glass of red wine.


Until a time when the wine stings her palette

And leaves her lips oddly numb.

Can she pour the wine on the rest of her heart,

To make it feel better?

To make it whole again?