Melancoly

Nothing

Watching her vision shrink
She closes her eyes again
Wishing to be asleep
Wishing to be dead again

She knows how to live
And knows how to die
And once more she's sad
You can see it in her eyes

Her eyes are withered sage
No more spring green
Her bones poke out of her
Shouting to eat

But she isn't hungry
She hardly feels hungry
She hardly sleeps too
She hardly goes to school

Can't be sure what everyone sees
But in her eyes she's not good
Enough is enough
She's had enough

Her life isn't stressful
She has nothing to stress about
She isn't an adult
She's only seventeen

As her skills fade
She becomes more dumb
Less talented
She doesn't paint

But she will write because
Writing can be fun
Really it's all she has
She liked to run

Only a pencil runs
For the work at home
Or for the work at school
Or attempts at poetry

All alone, she's alone
Silence grew peaceful
And noises cause distress
She could be studying

But all she wants is rest
All she ever does is sleep
Sleeping is her favorite
Thing to do

Because sleeping, you have no
Where to be, but in your
Own dreams, your own
Paradise

Your own sense of being
In your dreams you aren't
Skinny or stressed
In your dreams you're happy