Headstones

She’s like a breeze winding through the headstones
Bouncing off names of people she used to know
And now she’s only 12 steps away
From redemption or an early grave
But the ghosts inside her frontal lobe
Tell her where to step- where to go
Just twelve steps through hell’s different noises
Demons on her shoulder speaking in friendly voices
She always comes when they call
The poor girl never had a chance at all