Too wired to love,
strange and cold,
she spins her words with threats so cold,
a web of lies that holds him near,
his light is fading into fear.

The crack on the cracked mirror stains her face,
a crooked smile spews disgrace.
She keeps his face in her flower box,
with all the other shattered clocks.

They're all just ghosts that pass on by while,
she breathes to pass the time.