The ghosts judge my vanity with stern eyes, standing in corners with mocking smiles.
Waiting for me to join bc they know that a corner of my room has a reservation bearing my name.
Still on the floor, the remains of my body lie idly, resigned to the upcoming fate.
A little girl with glassy eyes watches me, as if hoping that i wouldn't end up like her in a ghost body.
I don't know if i want to disappoint her, but can she fill me with faith in me when i get up off the floor?
Words don't make sense like the essence of my life.
