It's Permanent

It's permanent, It's definite those words are so infinite. As she lays across her bed Thoughts of suicide and rage run through her head She gets up and makes coffee instead. As she is standing there with tears running down her face she is wondering how to keep up with the human race. Feelings of loneliness and isolation makes her feel she is in a wilderness of desolation. With no where to run and no one around she feels her life and hands are bound. Should she continue, should she end this? if she chooses the latter She will never find bliss. It's permanent, It's definite Those words are so infinite. © Deborah Seale Miller 1/2/2007