Past Dawn Poem by Jordan Jinx

she wishes she was someone else
a face she sees every morning the mirror
doesn't even feel like her own
when pours salt down on the snail she found
in the backyard at three in the morning
she knows something isn't right
it's never right

she dreams mainly in audio version
hears the words, feels no emotion
traveling in smaller spaces
makes her feel sick to her stomach
she could vomit out her lies
that she tells to everyone who doesn't know her
like that british accent of that one guy
on the television
with the paint on his jeans

she keeps one foot out from the under the covers
maybe if something passes she can feel the cold
she knows it's there
but she never does, despite the time that's passed
even with every broken picture frame
and every note that was written underneath her bed
hoping the ground would swallow her whole
she doesn't have the bravery
to end her story.
though, she knows she should.