She has quit trying.
She makes no effort
To better herself
Or to relieve her own woes.
She has shunned
Responsibility for herself,
As she has also shunned those
Who hold her to account.
She kicks at the goads.
And so she has, for now,
Won this battle of defiance
Against reality—she thinks.
Yet she has done it
By ruining her own life—
Sabotaging whatever is good—
Draining dry the love of others
And giving nothing in return—
Able to enjoy nothing,
Yet straining ahead,
As if this were some valiant campaign
For which she will be remembered in reverence.
She has no love.
No care.
Nothing left inside
Except defiance.
Mad at the world
That it will not fill up
Her emptiness for her.
