She tries to drown
in bottles of deceiving

darkness, floundering
in empty hopes,

spinning threadbare
yarns of dreary

despair. A maniacal
laugh plasters

onto her pain, sucking out
color like a bloated

leech, hungry for dreaded
delight. Wheels whir

and needles knit knots,
clicking in desperate

apathy. Tangled
thoughts run wild

like frenzied weeds,
strangling the stars.

In mourning, the night
shrouds the sleeping sun.

Happy to be in hell,
she cries through eternity.