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Cold, shaky fingers
Telling a story -
Once lived a girl
Who knew not to worry.
Girl that wore dresses,
Her lips and cheeks blushed,
Girl very pleasant,
Who knew not to rush.
Things came to her
As she tapped a finger.
Women and men
All happy to see her.
She read all the books,
And knew all the stories.
In company stood
Girl modest in glory.
Eyes green looked upon her,
Her small, fragile figure.
Her shoulders knew work,
Her eyes - gold and silver.
As sun bleached her hair,
Her skin had a glow,
Girl showed it so rarely:
Disease head to toe.
The claws in her mind
Were scratching her deep.
Her loved ones would shout
Until there’s no need.
She hated herself,
Her pain would grow bigger.
Or so tells a story
Of cold, shaky fingers.
The masks are all pretty,
Yet homes can be traps.
Her teeth were not gritting,
She needed no maps.
Cold, shaky fingers
Of worry and fear.
Green eyes held a girl
Too tired to live.
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