A perfection of state
A diagram of fate
All claiming she’s addicted to her own virtues
And craving her own foolishness

She’s dwelling on the past
Clinging to stuff she knows will never be
Moving in a circular motion, a clear cut she created
Where she has been deceived by her own emotions

Only circumstances have bewitched her
Tendering to her the hopeless
But her innocence
Consoled her purity