Robotic bliss.

Damaged and depressed, here lies the mess she’s made of herself. Trying to be saved left her selfish and enraged with everything wrong in this world. So she sits in her robotic fits. Comfortable as she lives, she knows there must be more to this than self-assuring bliss. She’s never seen the outside of her bedroom walls. She’s never had the freedom to accept friendly phone calls, but it’s not her fault. She boxes herself in. Her mother endears her with restless thoughts of tarnished boys and melodramatic sin. So she sits in her robotic fits. Comfortable as she lives, she knows there must be more to this than self-assuring bliss.