A touch, a sound of little laughter- and conflict starts to simmer. The way one stands apart from them and somehow, she’s the sinner. She’s home by nine for little time exists to venture outward. A thrashing sleep awaits her and she’d thought sleep would bring comfort.
They pass the time in little ways that reek of **** and spirits. And if she was to ever ask ‘you wouldn’t want to hear it’. So how she instead loses time in bed and with no company, it hits home hard when implied that she won’t know how to cut loose.
It’s true, she’s sad, but not in how you choose to look down on her- So next time, when they judge so quick Indignation will burn hotter.