we reach for the cuboards,
we pull on the fridge,
we twist a cap or two... pop a pill or three.
we're all in need of an escape.
she reached for the cuboards,
she pulled on the fridge,
she popped that pill.
there is no escape.
she turned to a mirror...
does she like what she sees?
so bleak.
she rubs her mascara into her cheeks
as a desperate attempt to hide her tears.
her fears swell.
her dreams shrink.
she thinks,
will i ever be liberated?