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Mar 2016
These are the days she fears the most.
When she wakes in the morning,
there's something askew.
She will try and get out,
out of her warm, soft blankets
before the buzzing of her phone
reminds her that she must work.
These days, though, she'll fail,
and stay cocooned until ten minutes
before she has to make the short journey.
She'll normally crawl out of bed,
pour a hot cup of coffee with one sugar,
drink it slowly while inhaling
her first nicotine fix for the day.
These days, though, she ran out the door,
coffee in hand, and didn't light the first cigarette
until she was already on the main road
to the hell hole she was employed at.
Usually, by now, her mood will have changed.
However, these days it just seemed to get worse.
Stuck between broiler and fryer,
she sat with chalky vinyl gloves
scrubbing the dirt and grease away.
She would think to herself,
"Haven't I done this before, to myself?"
These were the days she hated most.
When her co-workers ask,
"You're not your normal self?"
"How am I to be normal when I am
stuck here with people much better?"
She should know better, by now,
to not think this way,
but everything today was pointing
towards the barrel of a gun.
She finished her shift, eight minutes late,
ran to her car to be saved by the grace,
the grace of her car and a warm voice on the phone.
This day was finally getting better,
but then she walked in the door
where it was do this, do that,
screams here, screams there,
crying here, crying there.
These days, everything just got worse.
She finally mustered up enough anxiety
to tell everyone she needed some space,
so she took her best friend,
on four doppy long legs he stood,
for a short walk around the block.
She was finally clearing her head
of the overdosing thoughts,
when her ****** nosey neighbor,
stepped out onto her walk,
making conversation uncomfortable,
after five minutes she got on her way.
This girl finally decided
that it may be time for another cancer stick,
to wash some of the nerves away.
Once back around, she still was on edge,
pretty typical of these days, at least.
She went to her room,
and made yet another phone call,
to the same one as earlier,
it helped a bit more this time through,
until children came into the picture.
Normally, this would be fine,
even liked, but these days,
No.
No one was allowed inside this girl's head,
for these were the days she feared most.
Colleen Harrington
Written by
Colleen Harrington  29/F/Ohio
(29/F/Ohio)   
675
   Sisilia and ---
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