She'd made poor work of hiding the damage
It wasn't anyone's business
But likely they'd try to coax it out of her
"What is it, darling, that's eating you?
You haven't barely touched your food"
You have to remember to eat if you want anyone else
To believe in half a semblance of normalcy
Those are mistakes she'd make only once
Yet still there always seemed to be another one
And sequel seemed so much less inviting
Than repetition
Ins and outs and habits
Those can be quelled without having to place your mind to canvas
You can be elsewhere
Anywhere you want to be
If you see fit
Not that you'd know for a moment
Where to go then
((Or worse yet, who to go with))
But a problem anew
That required attention
For you to take responsibility for your action
To stop biting your nails
And wracking your fingers along the side table
And shuffling cards
And drawers
And tapping feet
And closing doors
And having thoughts you probably shouldn't have
((If you knew what were best
Or if you wanted that
Or if you should...))
You learn after a while that a life inside yourself
Quite simply, isn't any good
If you're your toughest critic
And your worst enemy
If you're the one behind the voice
Insisting "that's the end of me"
And that nothing happens ever to be anything like you'd said it' be
For now, though...
Another forkful would have to suffice