She sits and ponders to herself
So many questions on her mind
And each of them requires answers
That she knows she'll never find

Begging reasons for life's lies
And the untruths she's been told
While searching for a pair of arms
That, for her, would hold

She searches for a mirrored soul
Who wouldn't mind her haggard form
Who instead would lay and hold her
Through such a tedious storm

But alas, that fate is not visible
It's so cruelly kept from her
And from the darkened passage
Her tired soul can not deter

Her love is to be torn asunder
Her mind, a toy to be played with
Happiness in now non-existent
It has become the modern myth