though her cheeks have color

and her breath blows hot,

‘Alive and well’ is something

she’s not.

Before an artificial savior

she kneels.

Crying for something

she no longer feels.

She is dead,

rotting within.

She’s been waiting

and eternity

    for eternity

to begin.

She speaks and nods

and makes conversation

yet her silence cannot be

mistaken.

Her truth is safe

only wrapped in secrecy.

What she really is…

she begs no one to see.

She shames herself with razor

blades.

Because when she does the

numbness fades.

For the moment,

                She feels.

But still…

    She is dead,

decaying inside.

Waiting for salvation

-As she waited,

                she cried-