Her days drift by from dawn to dusk,
Beneath the sun’s emblazoned husk,
Each night awash in cold dismay,
Just dreading the approaching day,

She thinks back to her younger days,
Behind the warm rose-tinted glaze,
Each hope a long forgotten dream,
Just ripples in her memory stream,

Her path has brought her far from home,
Beneath these skies where demons roam,
Each battle fought for nothing real,
Just shallow wounds that cannot heal.

She looks towards the coming days,
Behind this dark depressing haze,
Each day another pointless blend,
Just waiting for her time to end.