The light dims,

you swallow that bitter lump of disgust,

those first steps fatigue you,

you perform for them,

and they cheer for you,

both parties drowning in self loathing.

 

Your house is small and dark,

and far from being a home.

Empty glass bottles strewn across the floor,

their gifts consumed,

and the rage ensued,

another bruise to go with your collection.

 

As sunlight drifts in the tattered curtains,

a groan of pain from an exhausted body,

one more day,

you against the world,

the reflection in the mirror is now a mystery.