To the Shadows

Blue smoke, hazing my perception;
His Chelsea grin pours out roaches and termites,
          eating away at my fingers.
His gloves as white as snow, reaching for my hair, tugging,
          dragging me into this pit of despair.
Blue smoke fogging my clarity;
Her heels pierce my eyes but her song is filled with melancholy.
Their smiles beam with hope, but the others tell me not to trust
          them.
The "real" kids laugh about the blue smoke, laughing at my
          insanity, safe in their bright and ignorant palace.

But behind his Chelsea grin, and after her lonesome song,
this little girl weeps.