She grew gloomy.
Tired of fretting,
she decided to strike out.
After-all there truly was nothing new,
and the sameness was debilitating.
Locked in this droll and predicable cycle,
she had no choice.
She'd either give in
to melancholy and mediocrity
or take the first chance
she could muster elsewhere
It mattered
not where.
She stuck out her thumb
and disappeared into the night.
Soon to regret her boredom,
she succumbed without a fight.
V
