Her name was grace,
A very pretty face,
Slowly she paced,
Into my embrace,

...

A pretty face,
Yet a ***** soul,
Not even a trace,
of being able to console.

...

My great aunty died that year,
I had hope she would hold me,
"She probably deserved it" to my ears,
Oh how her false love was like a cold sea.

...

She would tell me to call her "grumpy *****",
And out of confusion I did what she requested,
She wasn't popular, an isolated soul, a niche,
probably because she had a heart that wasn't blessed.

...

Staring into her eyes, was like staring into the abyss,
Nothing to care for, nothing but a tiny glint of light,
Yet everything about that girl felt so amiss,
Because even though she was bright, she wasn't polite...