All she wants to do is cry,
then painlessly die,
and wither away.
Fade into the fullness
of the backs of people's minds,
disappearing from their hearts.
Half a mind to stab herself,
half a mind to live.
Never truly sure.
Always fighting,
forever hating,
not knowing how to love,
or trust beyond a doorway.
Wishing just for silence,
but finding those moments fleeting.
Disliking herself,
and therefore loathing others.
Never really wanting,
never truly...
needing.
She has all she could ever want,
but feels it is to much.
Never having money,
never having hope.
She is indeed poor,
with a dagger through her heart.