Fingernails clipped with chattering teeth
Red bumps protrude from a scabbed and blotchy face.
Hair frizzed and fraying at the half blond ends.
She peers into her reflection,
Do homes exist without the sting of humiliation dancing on liquored up lips?
She is uncertain.
She knows she cannot roam their hallowed halls anymore,
The gallows, a couch seated next to them.                                   Covered in her silent blood.
Endless hues of white, gray, and blue consume her thoughts.
Waves of sterile grief crash through her gut
While she vomits it all up.
She packs her bags,
Her resolve becomes lichen.

She never looks back.