A broken down,
soft-spoken bird -
never a smile.
Never a word.
***** to the wall
then a sudden reverse,
not near enough change
left in the purse.
Stuck on that
stage in life
where everything's cursed,
but still hoping for good
while expecting the worst.

His mind is brittle,
his heart is in shreds,
not a sliver of solace
in bottles or beds.
After each night
he wakes up, he dreads
that he didn't die
in his sleep instead.
Cuts himself
deeply, but
the wounds have never bled;
all the damage he deals
is to his own head.