A young woman sits alone in a dark room,
bound by her own misery to an old worn tattered chair.
She sulks silently,
writhing in her own torture by disturbing memories of long ago…
she can’t seem to remember how she reached the bottom of these stairs,
or why she is now bound to the old worn tattered chair.
Starved and lifeless,
she slouches cold blue eyes stare straight above
to a leaking cracked ceiling that creates puddles of old dusty water
on the wooden creaky floor.
Once golden blonde beautiful hair,
now strings of knots hanging around a tear-stained dirty face.
Arms hang lazily from her bruised and scraped shoulders
that support a once-new black cocktail dress, that now is torn and frayed.
Small short breaths still escape the lipstick stained lips of the troubled woman,
but life that once existed has been depleted
as seen by the cold blue eyes that continue to stare above to the old leaky ceiling.
At some point, she escaped to find peace,
but her own horrid thoughts locked her up as a prisoner,
which bound her to the old tattered chair.
The countless seconds she sat, turned into minutes,
which then grew into lonely hours, that finally became lost forgotten days.
Torturous memories continue to play through the woman’s wounded mind.
Demonic like hands reaching out for her soul,
wrapping like old rope around her body, bounding her with fear.
Screams of agony escaping her mouth,
for nobody to hear but her and the body behind the demonic hands.
Those long scraggly hairy arms that were attached to the demonic hands
hung like a picture on a wall in her mind.
They gripped her soul and all that was good,
taking away her glitz and sparkle, leaving it all behind.
And now, all that is left, is a woman,
owner of a tortured soul and lifeless blue eyes
that continue to stare at a cracked old ceiling,
bounded to a worn tattered chair.