Blue fingers tips and nose.
eyes that are color blind
puffy cheeks with a bruise.
sharp edges for hips
hazy, cloudy mind.
She seems to be having the blues.
It’s as clear as she’ll never be.
Look at her,
Accomplishing so much yet so unhygienic
she’s got no muse
no reason for being
She’s got nothing left
till her bones fall off themselves
Till she joins the dead
frail arms and legs
a tummy that’s never fed
She’s got the blues alright.
resides mostly in her coffin that is a bed
Hoping she turns into maggot food night by night
Nothing can save her,
it’s not like she wants to be saved