She can do no wrong; she can do no right.
Her heart hidden in shadows so dark and angered,
Her spirit frozen, in a time of love beyond her reach.
Her thoughts wail for attention, clawing at her every move.
“He’s real, he must be” her mind would hiss.
Of his beautiful face, tis but a made-up dream.
But her body weeps and spasms for one, for whom?
She knows not.
Her body begs and pleads to be released from such a burning torment,
But to her demise, the pleads are in vain.
For every fiber of her core believes in his touch,
his words,
his spirit,
his head,
and most of all his heart too.
What more is truth,
than the pain of lies?
She sits alone with a heart so weary,
She has become consumed by her own madness.
A madness of a made-up falsehood.
---AuroraRW