She feels no comfort even looking through her mother's eyes.
A contemptible, humble compromise.
Consumed by pure deception from a reference of a friend who never cared at all.
But she was open for the closure since she never loved.
Trying to descry inner peace inside a powdered drug.
When all she needed was a simple hug.
From a father who was never there, so the good times she can't remember only darkness there.
Wisky Rivers and marijuana influenced tears.
Shine bright like a chandelier.
she tries to steer clear but engender traffic for her troubles.
Instead of thumbing through the crowded ruble.
So she consumes double patron shots with no rocks, since she's already watered down from life's mixed plots.
So she lives like she's dead for the moment I guess.
She doesn't want to stick around she just rather digress.
Tear a page from her thoughts that's how readers digest.
Like a lonely boy she dances to some black keys.
Just another girl strolling down a dark Street.
With The desire to bring life to a torn dream, Young Irene.
©vjwrites87
V