Litany

It was made of tangled bed sheets
It was made of the breath of her life
And it starts at the end
Because every other tale began at the beginning
And she never did anything the usual way
And she’d leave just as she entered
Swinging on a pendulum
And was caught by the irony
Of a wasted life
And then the darkness came
And she remembered

The day she came home
It was made of the breath of her youth
And nobody ever came home again
Because in the kitchen was a secret
And she must never ever tell
About the way it pooled red
Like rivulets of sinister ire
And the way she cried
As if the world had died
And of course in a way it had

The night she went out
It was made of the breath of her maturity
And she knew they didn’t love her
But she didn’t care and deeply cared
And they used her up
And they broke her down
Like a paper cup
The styrofoam peeling
And she said it was better this way
She knew it should never be this way
And then she cried
As if the world had died
And of course in a way it had

The morning she stayed in
It was made of the breath of her life
And it was her life
And she’d leave just as she entered
Swinging on a pendulum
And was caught by the irony
  Of a wasted life
And then the darkness came
And she remembered