Chair

She calls to me in nightmares
"Care to keep me company?
My will to live is broken,
and dying gets so lonely."
She pleas for a distraction
from her chosen fate,
but how can someone run away
from outcomes she creates?

She says
"God dealt me the cards in my hands.
I can't fix things, don't you understand?"
I wish she would take a step to breathe in some fresh air,
but she says she stuck in that chair.

The sun's warmth is welcoming
when surging through my veins.
I think about it fondly,
but she always complains.
Life is made of little things
to which her eyes are closed.
She only dwells in pointlessness
to which she is exposed.

She says
"God dealt me the cards in my hands.
I can't fix things, don't you understand?"
I wish she would take a step to breathe in some fresh air,
but she says she stuck in that chair.

Sometimes when the lights go out
I can hear her cry.
Beauty falls in acid rain
dripping from her eyes.
She sacrifices everything
before she even tries,
and as the raindrops drain away
there's nothing left inside.

She says
"God dealt me the cards in my hands.
I can't fix things, don't you understand?"
I wish she would take a step to breathe in some fresh air,
but she says she stuck in that chair.

She calls to me in nightmares
"Care to keep me company?
My will to live is broken,
and dying gets so lonely."