Wicked fate crucified her feeble soul on a train of pain leaving her with shattered dreams .
She lived in the night of the day soaked in shades of grey and clothed in blue emotions .
She was a complex shard deprived of cloying melodies of felicity .
She would wear a deceitful jocker mask to conceal her pained face .

Her Will was like a faint infant flame slowly fading into the dark .
Her pain had its beastly acute teeth sunk deep into her fragile sore heart .
Her soul was vandalised with hieroglyphic graffiti which unraveled her untold harboured tales  that could only be deciphered by vatic eyes .

Why did I bother to know her ?
Why was I curious of her ?
Why was I interested in her ?

She always told me how she was a vulnerable orphan of darkness .Her stormy life made her an amusement site to the world .Her struggles and sorrow were whitewashed by her flaws which were loathed by her lot .Twisted convictions of death as the author of freedom  lingered in her mind whenever the world ripped a piece of her .Her heart whispered unto mine of how pain and regret danced to every sound of its beat .She was the loneliest soul  I ever knew and now she's out of my reach .

Why did I understand her so much?
Why did I care about her emotions so much ?
Why?