There’s smoke beneath her paper skin,
It masks her sin,
It’s black and thin,
And keeps her secret’s secret locked within.

Her eyes have lost their guiding light,
They store the night,
Abhor the bright,
And flicker within regret’s final fight

She craves a warmer shade-less place,
But not solace,
Another’s face,
Alas she walks a path she can’t retrace,

With lines as deep as battle scars,
From smoke filled bars,
To plastic cars,
She pins her every dream on falling stars.