She keeps staring 

With her sapphire eyes 

Her pupils engulfed in white flames 

Her skin cascaded with true colors 

Hands and feet buried in smoke 

The doves above her wailing in agony 

The maroon sun is crumbling into forbidden ash 

Nothing to see but the fading moon 

Nothing to hear but the whispering nightingale 

Nothing to touch but dead promises 

Despite her weary brain 

And her tears that are becoming golden rivers

There's a crooked flower inside her chest 

It won't stop growing.