Holding onto strings of nothing

In a house without a home.

Shooting blind and hoping

That the ricochet kills me too.

Buried deep in a corner,

Hiding from so much of the light,

Rests the shadow of a girl I used to be.

Cast aside is her bright eyed innocence,

Her open wonder,

Her love for such a broken world,

Her religion, her shyness, her love of self.

Left in the light is a husk of who I am.