Reams of paper lay still at your feet
words once written, your desolation

Notes torn and shifted litter beneath,
tread softly and expect nothing in return

The coward's heart locks inside
the words you seemingly long to sing

Throats on pause and agony in slow motion,
gaping mouths flood though all is silent

The pictures depict other places
in times so foreign and unfamiliar

Your pen is stilled, young girl,
and your grip explodes into bits and pieces

Tender care and triumphant losses,
your words tumble on to the ground

The evidence on clear display,
reams of paper at your feet

Clutch your weapon to your chest girl,
as swirls of dust encircle your body

In your sights terminals exist,
and hope is scrawled by your literate hand

Eyes strike deviance and choices deem unworthy,
as they cast aside your failing graces

Such is life, young girl,
smoldering in reams of paper at your feet