She slips into the house unannounced,
doesn’t bother a quip when asked to speak.
Slams the door shut
and begrudgingly takes to her room to retreat.
Behind the locking door, music blares.
Her demeanor tells everyone she doesn’t care.
Her closeted persona is darkness deeper
than the black eyeliner coupled with black hair.
She’s never known love,
never been the center of affection.
Lies, misdeeds, and betrayal
stem farther than the daily rejection.
The family pleads with her to enjoy this time of her life
but more and more she becomes a recluse.
Her choice on how she lives amongst the trials,
she offers her parents a lame excuse:
“Who cares? What’s the point?”
Coffee Shop Sessions 