She had the soul of a poet,
And a mind of a philosophe.
A love for all,
Yet reserved for one.
A brain that processed too logically,
And a heart that felt it all.
She was an anomaly,
A contradiction.
A bundle of confusion, even for her.
All she wanted was to make sense,
A place in the universe she so desperately loved;
But never seemed to realize that the stars shone brighter
When she wrote of them,
And the crowds were silenced in her head,
by the everlasting verses, she stitched up
But never remembered;
Her voice stood out in its quiet resilience.
And although the world moved on,
She never did;
Because she focused too much on her place in the world
Rather than a grave to dig.