The girl sobbing on the
South West train, shaking
hands pushing tired hair out
of her swollen face. She’s been
thinkin’ about forever, she’s been
drinkin’ hard liquor, she’s been
talkin’ about how she’s only
as sick as her secrets.
Poor lonely sad girl, there’s no
prince, king or knight, no frogs
in sight. She welcomes the next
episode of her life reluctantly,
she embraces it with worry.
She is terrified of tomorrow.