The man that left her crippled,
With her double set of neuroses,
And from her fingers she ate her nervousness,

She sees the skull beneath her skin,
The breast less creature she had become,
Finding in herself nothing but a limp grin,

Was it all for this?

And it’s not to wish to wish these things,
To see flesh the body has long forgotten,
Daffodil bulbs instead of eyes,

Broken fingernails of dirty hands,
Teeth stained with un kept guilt,
To have bitten off the lisp of a smile,

Was it all for this?

These are wings that no longer fly,
But merely limbs to beat the air,
This must have been my life,
But I never lived it,

Was it all for this?