Cheerful words from her heart did sprout,
And her soul ran far from sea to sea,
The pen her sword, pages a promise,
The room a sanctuary for the free.
Stagnant water is living at her touch,
The stars are bright and pure,
When ancient monsters rise from dust,
Her words are the golden cure.
But when the ink runs dry,
And the light reaches day,
Her room returns to just to just a room,
A different monster comes to prey.
It's sly and it slinks,
Its hide a black matted mesh,
It croons sweet rotting words to her,
And rips away her flesh.
Its teeth are black,
Its eyes are red,
Biting teeth are drenched in ****** foam,
Kicking and scratching inside her head.
It mocks her, ruins her,
Her breath catches in her throat,
Death, failure, forgotten, for all its names,
It was ****** she wrote.