She is in love with the broken pieces of tortured souls,
And the sound of spilled ink,
With lost expressions,
And,
Them.

She wishes for a cosmic love affair,
But she’s as lonesome as a blue moon,
And she’s stuck in Wonderland,
Mourning the hollow vast,
Playing the same song over and over again in a forest full of tears.

Can’t you feel how cold the floor is?
Her feet are frozen,
They’re yellow and blue,
Don’t you recognize those eyes?
The sight of a burning sun losing its light?
The illusion of warmth fools you,
For the better or worse.