sixtyeight

Her tongue flicked and her eyes waved,
Her chariot low to the ground.
There was more to her than hair and proportions.

She had a story.
About a secret.
A secret, she never told,
Anyone.

One piece of her she would never share.
Her habits were too engraved.
No matter how hard they swung the hammer,
part of that wall would always stand.

They're screaming depression.
She's explaining it was all those nights
she spent in the dark,
Alone and scared.

An immunity she built growing up.
A closing of her mind and heart.
From listening to a war in the next room five nights a week.
Provided, it wasn't full proof.

She lived,
She loved.
Amazingly enough.

But, oh, how hard habits are to break.
Oh, how strong that wall was.