The bottle sits upon the dresser
spilled over,
nothing more.
She sits upon the stairs waiting,
hands tied like knots,
like the fear of something sure.
They’re all gone,
she shakes,
and it is as if time is passing her by.
Priorities … are pushed aside,
her life begins to shatter,
all actions that come with consequences
surely do not matter.
The children,
they’ll be asleep,
just till the morning
not past three or four.
Their tears mean nothing to her,
no matter how many fall…
no matter the amount of screams she hears,
the pills still build the wall,
As if they are her shield,
as if they are her life.
They’ve torn apart anything
she’d ever known before.
The pain has taken over –
it’s brought upon such strife,
what will the outcome be?
When she has taken her life?
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