A girl… living in a world that has ended.
Where life is never born
And never dies.
Empty… and still,
The girl was very lonely
In this desolate realm.

This world, like a post-apocalyptic wasteland
Is nothing but a frail, dark space.
The girl needed a friend,
And the only way she could have one,
Was if she gathered stray parts of junk,
And built one with her bare hands.
The scent of rust, the dusty touch,
Of all the scavenged junk.
The screech of parts coming together was
A melody to her ears.
Finally, the creation is now complete.

The girl waited… and waited… Yet waiting
felt like forever.
She lost hope.
She figured that the junk wouldn’t call out her name.
The poor girl soon realized it was too good to be true.
She slumped back into her corner
And thought about how cruel
This world can really be…

A girl… living in a world that has ended.
Where life is never born
And never dies.
Empty… and still,
The girl was lonelier than ever before
In this desolate realm.