She's the women You imagined Stepford wife She sit's with Hands clasped tightly Courtney Loves drunken sister Resonates within Her wilted box keeps disintegrating Her barricades Useless Soaking filth from the ground She would cry Tears dry Salt is only producing She's a mist uncontrolled Wild growing daisy Sitting in a ticky tack Garden She sees freedom Fake Placed in the deserts hot sun Thirsty Last drink Now haunts Suited up in her dress She carries on Fragmented Dissapointing denial