Jenny's Day In

Peeking behind the curtains
Dust stains reveal the perished
Jenny stays hungry, still waiting
She is bitter, lost in melancholy
Her soar throat cannot stretch
Tied to that last thread of hope
She decides to cut it herself
When will the bell ring, she wonders
While scratching and clawing
Her skin is almost thin
Bordering the sinew, she barks 
For that one last time
If only Tim could hear her
Sleeping with a rope around
His neck so fragile
The room would be his cemetery 
He made sure, Sorry Jenny.