A Perfect Shot

She sleeps with closed fists 

Cuts on her wrist from what she calls accidents 

She puts make up under her eyes maybe that’ll hide 

All the sleep she loses when she stays awake at night 

Her life feels incomplete 

Like she’s missing a piece 

Which she tries to find by calling her friends her family 

She lives in a house full of strangers who share the same blood 

pretending they’re happy but stay as long as  bills get paid every month 

She lives in a house she used to once her call her home

surrounded by memories of the the people she trusted to be her own 

Soon the guilt struck for what someone else ruined

But she found it simple to blame herself 

Rather than face that not every loved one can be perfect 

But who could explain a child it isn’t their fault

The ending of every story doesn’t get the perfect shot