She sits on her bed

in the growing darkness

Surrounded by posters

of plastic people

and hopeless dreams

Her silver sound system

flashes bright lights

and angry tales of death and woe

blast out of the speakers

She sits still

Not moving even a finger

She does not close her curtains

to the impending night

She does not even turn on a light

The people of plastic stare

As though blaming her entirely

for the woes of the world

The sound system goes quiet

And then

She moves

It begins with only an eyelid

And then the tears start

Rolling down her cheeks

And she crumbles