A Volatile Girl

Michael W. Flaifel

 

A Volatile Girl sits

Sorting

Sorting through the still red embers of her scorched past

Thinking

Thinking of how her life has gone until now

Pleading to her god

Pleading

for an end to her despair

Trying to see a light to live for but is instead blinded

Pregnant with the facade of a better tomorrow

Only to birth the creature destined to slowly lodge its dull, jagged knife

Through the ribs of today

And sever the last trembling thread

Holding it over the chasm of yesterdays

Gone

She looks to

The shrieking bottle, tensioning its cork

Teeming with the cloudy brew that

Yesterday’s life stirred up

She covers her ears

fighting to drown out

The bellowing of her name

Erupting from the bottles smug mouth

Beseeching her to take just one more drink

And like clockwork

Yesterday died

And today never missed it