The Margins

She sleeps with a copy of Stephen King's The Shining under her pillow. The knife was left on the kitchen sink; the gun to her head out of ammo. She writes, but has no pen to stab with- just a finger to make herself sick Reflection screams "I want to be perfect!" and the mirror shut up! How can she? How can she? She will fight; she'll work for it, she's been working a new page; fresh - running out, wasted so much paper wasted already She writes in the margins, left there for someone to open the book and see