She rarely made eye contact with people
Sat at the back of the bus alone.
Came from a broken family of violent alcoholics.
Was sexually abused between the ages of seven and twelve.
Quickly learned that men weren’t to be trusted.
Looking into her eyes,
You would swear you were looking at an abused dog.
Her missing soul
She went to work at 8 each morning.
Didn’t make many friends or talk all that much.
Got home around 6 and sat with her TV dinner
Lost in her sadness.
Wondering if this life
Would ever free her from mental prison.
Show her what love is
Tell her she’s beautiful
Cut her a fucking break.
But that night
Would be the last night she would wonder that
Because she had thrown in the towel
A smile graced her weathered face
As she swallowed her 30th pill
It won’t be long now she whispered
But there was a knock at her door
She staggered over
Wanted to wish her
A Happy Birthday
Told him what she had done
He carried her over his shoulder
Threw her into his truck
Off to the hospital
Her life’s movie sporadically spliced
Snippets of her misery
The passing lights above
As her dying body
Was pushed quickly down the hall
On a stretcher
Her neighbour by her side
Holding her hand
Told her she was beautiful
Said this life was worth it
“Don’t go yet”
She smiled at him
As a single tear
Fell from her cheek
As she took her last breath.