she has a few friends -
a pair of earphones,
and a red devil brand
box cutter

she only smiles
when you ask whats wrong,
and talks to her pillow
about her day

until one day
the sun rises
and peaks through
her bedroom windows
only to find
that she will
never rise again.

they always said
her voice sounded like
flowers blooming
in the dead of december
and her hair was long
and gold
like spring,

but behind her
curtains of hair
they spoke of
a supposed
venomous tongue
slipping through
her angelic
vocal cords
and a mistake or two
that they put on display -

so no wonder
she retreated
to an eternal
hibernation
where they only knew
of her warm voice
and her ethereal,
golden hair.