A poem for a retarded cousin

Distractions didn't work anymore.The events at pretty places with pretty people over pretty plates of food. The exciting, fast-paced glitzkrieg nights of the city. The serene paces through the calmed grass at her favorite park. It all stopped working. And she couldn't deny it any longer. She hurried her steps to the front gate of her house. She knew it was coming. She felt the dam that held her pretty self together started cracking as soon as she drove into the driveway, now hidden from the rest of the world. The pain pressurized exponentially with each step and her heartbeat synchronized with the spazzed out flickering of her patio light . She was going to make it.

Impatiently, she forcefully jammed her key into her front door and turned the knob. It wouldn't open. It was the wrong key. "Dammit" she mustered. Her eyes blurred as she tried to find the right key. Fumbling with her keychain, she paused to look up to the black sky, trying to get the sting out of her eyes. As the first tear hit her chin, the dam collapsed, flooding her face, releasing all the pain inside her, down to the concrete steps of her front porch. The pain that kept her back straight, the pain that kept her hair in place, it all broke loose, fleeing her organs, her veins, leaving her crumpled on the floor.