White Labels

The familiar cool tiled floor beneath her feet gave her comfort.
The yellow walls made her smile.
The mirror she looked in, only created happiness, because of what was behind it.
Slowly she opened the hope behind the glass.
Her eyes begin to widen as she looked into what she knew would bring her higher.
The orange bottles.
White labels.
ancient scriptures, coding for "medicine"
She knew them as letters, standing for desire.
The fantasy of being happier was no longer just a fantasy.
When that white cap, un screwed the white tablets falling into her palms.
The lust for her own utopia, so different from before.
That mirror got the best of her.
No longer were her confessions made.
No longer was she tired of starting again.
Becuase she was already done.