::AN OVERDOSE DEMiSE::

Her alarm clock: a foreign machine.
It faintly whispered an irritating “beep”
Never missed a bit.
Uninvited IV’s made homes in her arms.
It looked as though they rang the bell.
Without awaiting an answer they stormed in.
Perhaps then,too late, she noticed their evil.
But she brought "fists to a gun fight"
Strange colored bruises bizarrely somehow appeared beautiful.
Perhaps because they were not the worst of her battle scars.
Swallowing and taking a shallow breath she discovered tubes.
Infinite tubes.
They befriended both my throat and nose.
No.
Not me.
She.

She came to examine her attire.
A long white gown with deep turquoise emblems.
Not one that she could personifying beauty in,
although dressed for the occasion.
Not by choice.
Fear: a soul’s appearance after approaching the gates of death.
and trudging back to those of life.
I was contented by the cold mirror-less room.
No.
Not me.
She.

It was not then that pain befell her.
Her mind wandered to those she loved.
It came to him.
He who she found a love, deep rooted for within.
Her finger tips, addicts.
Evident symptoms of withdraw.
They wandered, only to meet air.
Yearning to have his hand in hers.
Those brown eyes look to the chair, there next to her.
There he sat.
His eyes locked on hers, sealed so tight.
Hoped he could read what was in her soul.
Only her imagination played tricks through her eyes.
An empty room.
I was alone.
No.
Not me.
She.

Seconds in her life passed.
But those turned to minutes.
Minutes to hours.
Then those to days.
She had nearly lost her life, drowned by man’s evil potion.
Remained a float in the chaos that surrounded her.
Beings in long white coats spoke words she did not hear.
Machines gave and took from her body but she did not feel.
Her eyes just remained locked on the device that lay on the stand next to where she laid.
Its face never illuminated.
It’s vibrations never made noise against the plastic surface.
It began.
Starting from the heart and leaking to her brain.
Then to the rest.
It was then that pain surged through my entirety.
No.
Not me.
She.

But then it rang, though her ears were suspicious of her mind’s tricks.
She fumbled to press the green colored button.
Nearly found death again in hearing his velvet voice.
Difference: A girl’s metaphorical death.
But he had nothing to say.
He had better things to do.
Busy.
After a brief thirty seconds she quickly remembered she was alive.
Same: A human’s alive.
The cold sound of disconnection sent chills down her spine.
It consumed me.
No.
Not me.
She.

Tears trickled from those brown eyes.
Never seemed to cease.
Why couldn’t those in white coats drug her for this pain?
Eventually her body began to heal itself.
She still left that cold, four walled room in pain.
She continued to cry but tears no longer dampened her chocolate cheeks.
Saddened because I saw my worth.
No
Not me.
She.

Hurt but it couldn’t be real.
Heart hung by love’s noose.
Sure her soul will die.
When she sees she
is me.

-JessicaLynn