Ice Queen

I shower to wash away the stench of depression. 

It’s all I can do. It’s all I can do. 

Water traces the shape of my round face and trickles down my body.

I stare blankly, as the scolding water heats my cold heart.

Sometimes the showers are quick, sometimes they’re long.

They’re the highlight of my day. 

To actually get up and do something, one thing.  

When I step out, I become listless, I can feel my bones rot, and my heart freezes over again.

It’s a cycle. A tragedy.