Blame it on the black star

He says hey baby doll, why do your eyes look so dead?
Stone cold, full of pain would surely be better.
Full of joy an unreachable goal.
He says sweetheart when did you last sleep? Eat? Brush your hair?
She says, hey cutie pie 3 maybe 4 days. I'm living on my broken nails.
Chewed to the quick. And further still. Bleeding, infected.
And still I can't stop cutting my teeth on them.
She says hey baby boy, I wanna sleep.
I wanna sleep and not wake up tomorrow.
This perpetual nightmare's too much.
She says.
She says.
She says.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPod touch]