It's funny,
How we have
The tendency
To look upon each other
And smother
Our feelings and emotions
Onto a designated
Ragdoll, of sorts
Who, in the aftermath
Desires to dance
To where the end
Will justify
Nothing, even
The lines
Marked throughout her arm
[Which] signify
Body and mind
At a gradual downfall

Demented thoughts
Crashing,
Like a waterfall
During the world's end
It's more than enough
To bring upon
A deluge
Of volatile insanity
That slowly grows
'Till it explodes
And bestows
Only more torture
Until the penultimate
Second, in which
Her dance ends
And she can only
Lie motionless
Breathless
With a crimson line
Marked on her neck
Longer, deeper
Giving birth to
The sadness
Coming from
That realization:
The end
Couldn't possibly justify
The actions she took
Against none other
Than
Herself