She was lonely
She had no one to keep her company.
Her life was depressing
For there was nothing amusing.
There was nothing
But of an empty void in her life
The life she lived ran short of time.
Her soul entertained misery
As her norm was agony
A weakling in joy
But a mere queen of shame.
Darkness became her home
A place she called her own.
Her pleasure was of pain
Pain which came with rage
This was just her main.
Similar to the lost soul she would recall
The regretful mistakes
Caused by the vibrant being once was
Leaving behind her majestic beauty
Which with-held her creativity
To love.
Exiled from society
She became the solitary spirit.