She draws a breath

It is but a whisper

Sssh, you shouldn’t tell the rest

But I have really missed her

 

The way of her ambitions

The way of her words

Oh, such an inspiration

If only you had heard

 

Ah, so astounding she could have been

With those positive notions for humanity

Then she forgot the words she used

And they no longer rhyme

 

The snow matched her footsteps

Until she’d walk no longer

And that is when she flew

Into an unkempt garden

 

Where her tongue was eaten by crows

And the flesh of herself rotted.

She awoke wearing a watch

Or, perhaps, it was wearing her.

 

Since time had passed

Without her consent

Where is she now, you ask?

I couldn’t say

But I miss her something awful.