On the floor^

Glass and nickles fall, all of this is a weeping call. as she sits on the floor with a shred of wire cutting into her skin, she realizes mutilation is a sin. she screams and dies on the floor, but her mom only hums louder and louder once more. her father isn't even home, and her Popa's little girl is buried by blood on the floor. she would pray ever night to just sleep tight and that the thought of Corie wouldn't come, every morning she would say say a prayer to live through the blank stare. the cold cold glare of society and hope. she would live for the warmth of hug like the addict of a drug. she lived for the look in his eyes, she only woke up for that one guy. now as she lies on the floor, lifeless and breathless, like before no one sees , no not even me because i myself am dead. lying on the floor with white lights guiding my heart and head.