Powder

Photography by Charlotte Summers who is aspiring to be a contemporary dancer

There lies my blood,
There is those drugs,
Blurs of vision,
The Sounds of collision,
My mouth so numb, I know I'm under my thumb,
I guess, I'm dumb.
The Lump won't go away, It hurts.
Here comes the questions,
Always the questions?
Weak,limbless,dark and skinny.
She is Fading,
She is no-one,
She is no longer a personality,
She is a dependant powder;
lost- lost in a place that is non-existent.
She is a walking question,
'Where are you?',

'Who did you become?',

'How did it get this bad?'.
There is no explanation,
There are no eyes,
The colour vacuumed,
The hum extinct,
Just a drink of relief dripping from her already dead face.