And all is left, undone

Time utters peace to her
Yet she mentally instigates war
Another twenty-four hours
Another six p.m. finds her lost
Here
Begging pity for her self-induced frustrations
Wearing the wreckage of yesterday and the troubles of tomorrow
Seeking calm in a confused Babylon
As timeless horror
As sinking ships
Tidal waves
She cannot swim
She longs for a savior
She petitions the maker of birth, life and death
She struggles to keep her head above ten foot waves of madness
She gets no pity
She drowns