The Art of Self-Destruction
Caught in a landslide, a million miles per hour, without a
source to turn to, or successfully pull me from my shallow
Long forgotten, by none other than herself. She was just
too much to deal with, and too lost, like everyone else for
Winds blow from below as gentle faces try and shield her
own from the dark and icy drafts. Feeling as if she
deserves the worst, she'll only tighten her expression and
take in silently whatever is thrown her way.
Concerned by none other than practicality, she pushes
others aside to save them from what's coming forth.
It all seeps in, a world adrift.
Slowly, Slightly, Racing.
Pain can be shed temporarily, thrown into the same abyss in
which she'll land in at a later time. But who's to think of
such later times when misery is alive and strong now?
So continue starving for perfection. A pretty picture
through all other eyes. Move on as crimson droplets prove
to save her from finding that abyss all too soon.