In the corner of the mindset
of her quiet insanity
she wove a blanket of protection
from the bitter cold
that lived inside her head
dreams stricken from the realm
of her lonely existence
she drove her madness forward
away from the torn woman she'd become
away from a phone that never rang
conveniences she left to the sane
no anger lived inside her broken thoughts
the only sign of her pain
was the pillow of tear stained hope
drying as the hours crept by
consuming all the internal life
inside her consistently emaciating body
he nailed her spirit on a cross of death
