The world spins round,
her heart starts to pound.
Her eyelids flutter,
no words, she cannot utter.
Her toes go numb,
her ears hum.
Her memory fades,
as her mind acts as shades.
To shield her from the sorrow,
and prepare her for tomorrow.
She sleeps soundlessly,
knowing she cannot hear, taste, smell, or see.
But most importantly, she cannot feel,
those wounds that just won't heal.
But she can feel that artificial ecstasy,
that she desperately wants to be,
the thing that saves her from all of the pain, before it drives her insane.
And to helping her conceal,
all that is raw and real.
And to helping her fight,
that distorted light,
that keeps finding its way inside.
Trying to convince her not to hide,
from life and all of its pain and strife.
But she chooses, instead, to hold it all in,
to let life win,
by indulging in her guilty little pleasure, her guilty little sin.