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There’s the part of you
that’s shadowed in the corner.
50 shades of blue,
she has the face of a mourner.

Another part
is thin as a twig
with a shriveled up heart
and a grave to dig.

Her opposite is large
and glued to the fridge.
She lets her lack of control take charge,
yet she doesn’t wish to cross that bridge.

The fourth swallows pill after pill
and dons a melancholy look.
She doesn’t fight against her will.
Not a thought could be shook.

The final bleeds all over,
adorned with paper thin scars.
Pain relief is closure,
hope locked behind bars.