It could have been destiny
It could have been the real
It could have felt as life itself.
she loved the smoky air and the putrified taste of loneliness.
It was her, carrying the world on her frail shoulders
and putting up with the world with a no matter what smile
she was a flower
fragile and senselessly dainted.
The shedding tears of a thousand spectrums
Used and used again, like a useless rag taking flames in a woodless dried scenery
Hurting, killed inside and murdered outside
Why oh why all this burden on her
why oh why the serenity of life abandoned her.
No escape from the hands of destiny
No unmasked mortals
No shinning armor warrior.
Nothing, empty space, ponderous life