I am the girl who cried wolf.
I am the girl whose current existence is a joke,
a library book over due
a movie being charged day by day for staying
longer than it should have.

People sigh in prologued patience in my company.
No longer of relief.
Biting their tongues, choking the words of confrontation.

I am the girl who is dead inside.
And finally, those words no longer hurt
but now power dances on my fingertips
of nothing left to lose when all has been taken.
Those that cared about me the most
float in the thick water of indifference.
They are waiting for the body
to follow the lead of my soul.

I am the girl whose funeral will be mundane.
When the time comes, and most likely soon,
that I do pull the trigger, silencing my cries.
They will find my body and no tears will be shed.

I've been dead for a long time.