Down the drain

My feelings, a gentle ray of sunshine suffused with sweetness are nothing but a dark void, calling out to the lonely now. A wrinkled hand curls its hand toward me, the scars of the years that made it eminent on it, beckoning to me. My inner voice, a cruel being, sneers at me while I try not to crumble like glass pieces. The quiet humming of the spinster wakes me up, only to find that I'm still tied up in the drak dungeons of my wretched past, never seeming to let go.