She had become a pale wraith
Just a ghost of the girl gone
Blondness and whiteness faded into one
Dead already
But not yet really
Still breathing
But with no heart beating
Nothing warm or filled with love
Just the pinch of the needle
Stinging in her arm
Her only smile
For that pleasure
But that too would soon be gone
And she would be cold and still
And she would wait in her bed
Frozen like a statue
Waiting for someone to find her
And consign her to the ground