She watches. Listens. Tastes.
Cries.
Feels the hopeless feeling rise.
Feels their bitter, laughing scorn.
Feels the icy cold of morn.
Watches the rain.... pitter-pat
The joy she once had now falls flat.
Water burns against her skin
Blood and metal churn and spin
The thorns and lies caress her wounds
And glazed eyes gaze at pallid moon.