Dark - Cold - Blonde

      
     
     
     
Beneath the damp rot
termite infested    
old-aged  
floorboards      
lived a girlchild,    
comforted      
in the
dark underground void      
she'd spent life in      
     
You may call her "heartless"      
I prefer the phrase      
"Without a heart"      
(must have once had one)    
     
Her days spent      
rattling ankle chains      
into some sort      
of rythmn, that became a meadly      
Beats of music      
she'd use      
to count      
seconds
into minutes
into hours    
into days      
     
waiting
for the plate of food      
to appear      
from beneath the door      
     
     
She to      
has aspirations,      
goals,      
and motivation      
     
One day she hopes    
to meet      
the hand that feeds her.