His Demons, Her Daily Nightmare

So full of life; at the seams, she’s bursting
Yet the daily grind of mental torment
Kills felicitous tone, leaves her thirsting

No escape from sulfuric lake of ruin
Yet she treads while choking acrid poison
Willing a new dawn under the paled moon

Low. So low, no grasping breaks the traction
Yet alone, wounded, abandoned, she waits
Until her salvation’s moved toward action

Glow turns ember; near exanimate’s door
Yet keeps on breathing, while longing to stop
Still, without calm; can no longer ignore

She never dreamed of a life within his nightmares