She feels like a fragment of who she used to be.
Salty and still,
swollen on the wreckage of her own pathetic life,
she dreams in sirens
wailing against day’s angst.
Nothing ever changes
except what stays the same.
Nail gun in hand,
she hangs another empty shelf,
then proffers her palm
for impaling.
She hopes that pain dissuades the anguish
wailing will not cease.
Brenda Warren 2016
Six for Wednesday / The Sunday Whirl
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undercaws 
“swollen on the wreckage of her own pathetic life” – I love this line. Wonderful poem.
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Nothing ever changes..except what stays the same…how very true – sadly.. i hope she uses that railgun to try and stick some of the fragments back together..that would change things perhaps – a powerful and relatable poem
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Soulful and sorrowful.
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The nail gun may well be a very bad idea! Who’s going to phone for an ambulance?!
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for had, please read hang!
Even though I’ve let most of the prompts go by, I shall still be glad when April’s over.
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I knew what you meant. I will be glad, as well. I remember my excitement at the start, too. This is the first April, as a writer, that I haven’t had a full time job. Life is busy, but I thought poeming would be waaayyyy easier. hahaha! That’s what I get for thinking. Thanks for hanging in there with me this month. ❤
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And you for all your encouragement.
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I know Napowrimo is almost over, but had in there: there’s no need to self harm. You canrest in 3 days’ time. Well wordled.
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Ha! Thank you, Viv, you made me laugh. I’m not planning any self harm, but love your take on my poem. Three more days, but then there’s the Sunday Whirl. Trying to do that justice, I’ll say four more days. 😉
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