Mindless Month

She stood there by the cemetery,

watching over her mothers grave.

Of all her days in solitary,

she never complained once.

And hardly anything is necessary,

Of this mindless cold soul.

When she thought the demons gnawed at her,

she would always wonder why she drank herself high.

Was it to ease the throbbing pain,

Where she had nothing but strain.

On the contrary,

So many cold memories known as January.