Concave

Holed up in a blanket cocoon,
waiting under clocks and moons,
my fingers creak like thin ice,
the light's been pulled from my eyes.
I can't feel hope for things I once did,
and the loneliness has stripped me naked.
A desperate need to be filled again,
when there's only truly one need within.
Certain that the dawn brings bumps in the night,
I fold into myself and hold on tight.
I used to be a girl, favorably warm,
now I'm only a carcass, withered and worn.
My eyes creep close while my heart pumps fast,
the horns blare past and young ladies stare, aghast.
A crooked little thing stumbling in the cold,
was me, is me, could be me - if I were to be so bold.
I'm more visual than ever before, thinking about the world,
yet I feel closer to death than ever before, my soul's been sold.