Perched

She sits, safely perched.  The lighter raises to her mouth.  One click and smoke dances up to meet her hair, tangling itself in every strand.  Her magic is dark, it burns with anger and sadness.  There lives her skin, prickly and thin.  It tears as she scrapes.  Dark red spilling out.  “I’m not done”, she says to no one.  Pen to paper and she bleeds her words.  But for whom to read? Scratching out words, hard lines on flesh and she calls out for forgiveness.  The abyss only yawns back, tugging at her bones.  Face covered in spider webs, she walks, barefoot and naked.  She whispers into the sun.  Rocks tear at her feet, soles bleeding, she shuffles on.  She uncovers her face; sun shone, pressing its way, pushing her back.  She slips, just a skip of the foot, unsteady ground.  She sees a finish line growing smaller and further away with each flail of her body.  She rests for a minute but then back on hands and knees, crawling for you.