When she was young,
her mother asked,
"Why rush ahead,
without thinking,
about the consequences?"

She ignored the question,
thought, "Like you care, Ma."
and to spite her mother,
she spited herself,
went on her not-so-merry way.

Now,
a lifetime later
broken,
anxious,
addicted
medicated,
she peers out,
from behind
the shade drawn window,
with half closed eyelids
a mouse peeking out its' hole,
afraid of the consequences.