The joy of the cold truth

The white Walls seemed to sink in around her Sparse and clinical and dazzling in their blandness Ear drums thudding to a beat, as yet undetermined She sat as the waves beat the grains of sand into the shore of her very being A girl without purpose or reason Just an animated cadaver to fill a space on the production line Eyes baring the truth, seen by no other Fists clenched in angst and longing Wanton need pouring from her chest; brazenly seeking out solace She was the girl that got sent by mistake The accidental one, commuting to a world where she didn't belong Her glazed blue peepers leading her into every cul-de-sac And then back again A spider with no web to return to A misunderstood fragment of what might have been If she had been a complete. A unit. A whole. Rather than the forgotten jigsaw piece that slipped down into the dark Rather than the abhorrent creature that the mirrors confirmed She was the child that hid under the table when the comfort never came A lost foghorn in the sea of never ending questions And her mantra rings out, submergent in its urgency Why did you send her world? She wasn't needed here.