Tired of the System

She was sitting in the dining room earlier than normal.

Draped in her newest collection of thrift shop pompous.

The air must have been just cold enough that she felt the need to cross her arms.

Maybe the window was left open today and we all just forgot.

Ivory concealer missed upon removal happened to highlight

the weights tugging on her eyes.

The constant brevity of her tombstone texts had been silenced for this meal.

Her shoulders an untrained submissive, humbly angled to the floor.

Her lips were parted slightly yet her jaw was held firm.

Her arrogantly placed brows now lay softly with defeat on her face.

Happiness was so easily lost in the places she called home,

In the people she thought were home

Truth like sweat seeped out of her skin.

-she is now held silent by the words of others