Spirit within my spirit reminds me of a place called home.
A place more esthetical and historical than Rome.
I'm staring at a goddess, and her eyes gives me an impression she's seen more than enough
The scars in her wrist told a story that she had it rough.

But then August came
And she re-lived all the horror once more
She aggressively fell on the ground as before
And she was drowning in a pool of her own blood as her screams decorated the floor.

Her silence was golden, only the walls knew of her nakedness
After the dark left and morning came, she wore a mask perfect enough to cover the sadness.

She's stranded in a deserted place
She finds comfort in her own sholders
The warmest place she ever knew changed on her and turned her colder.

Like trees in autumn she's falling apart
She lost everything, and all that's left was a broken heart.

She fell in a trap hiding behind a smile
Deceptive busturd enjoyed dominance, instead he showered her with hurt and punches till she couldn't take no-more. giggles he promised, but instead she cried enough to surpass the Nile.

She had the spirit of a punching bag
Because after all the thrashing and assault, she still had the strength to handle more.
And now she's idle on the floor like before

But unlike before these time she's DEAD