There is a mess, a clutter, a crowd that she found,
A thing that we run from that follows her around.
A climax, a friction, a trick that she believed-
A gift that she thought that she had received.
She thought she could dance and write and sing
Until her gift took a stand and burned everything.
She hid under the light of the burning flames.
Could it be so bad that her gift played games?
Could it be so wrong if her rights were wrong?
Could it be that she had gone on too long?
She was not meant to stand on top of this tower.
The wind had delayed it's assertion of power!
Then the flames they reached and engulfed her soul
And dispersed as they achieved their goal.
It was the darkness' turn to eat it's fill,
To crack open the shell and take it's will.
And so the shell of a girl went running and hiding
And stealing and crying and forever deciding
What fate she'd choose once she got away,
The path she'd crawl without games to play.
But no, who could stand it, to let her live on?
What a pleasure it would be to have her gone!
Her body gave in, with no life underneath,
Just organs and blood and bones beneath.
The shell looked back down the path she'd run-
It turned out that the darkness had won.
She had left a silver trail of her footsteps, regrets.
Realization began to rain down like comets.
There was no point in running, it was a waste of energy,
Energy she could have used to scream out loud in agony.
As the darkness closed in, she looked to the sky.
How this had happened, she didn't wonder why.
She was wrong, she was death, she was abandon
She was disgusting, she was abomination
She was ugly and empty and selfish
A thing that God meant to abolish
A waste of space,
A total disgrace
She was dim
Just a whim
A meal for the darkness.