Thursday, August 10, 2006

Friday 55

She lay on her back, knowing she wouldn’t see dawn.
Her vision grew pleasantly opaque.
Last night, before she slit streaks across her wrists, she looked up at the sky and silently begged.
Anyone, she screamed to the stars, anything. If there is a God. Help.
There was no sign. And that was her answer.

Written in response to this by BB.