the people stop and stare
but make no attempt to help
the tiny girl behind the glass
being tortured by her loneliness
personified by the ghosts

they think it is a play
that my shackles are for show
but i am certain that
my rubbed-raw wrists
and tear-stained cheeks
are nothing short of real

im starving but they dont know
that when i yell they laugh
my throat is fading cracks
and my mind is flat blanks
the inky black of night
creeps on my lifeless soul
to kidnap me
take me away
once
and for all.