Her hair fell down her face like the end of yesterday's symphony.
Magically tied together by the qualms twirling in their stomach,
She begged for tongues to wither in her mouth as she exhaled.
No one would understand the meaning of her truth until she died.
And as the Pharaohs of her past came echoing out of her throat.
She washed them back down with bourbon and prescription medication.
Foaming at the mouth, she smiled in the mirror.
Laying her head on her pillow, eyes memorizing the ceiling.
Waltzing with images of marrow and wonder if she will make it.
Hoping she won't.
But has she really?
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