The Eiffel Tower
was like the
hilt of a sword.

There was
no blade.

Yet there was a
volcano underneath.

The little girl
warned everyone.

She said it might
not go off.

Yet maybe
someday it will.

She wanted peace
to increase.

Yet no one
believed her.

A tear on the spike
of an eyelash.

She pickled her
patience as she waited.

Everyday the Eiffel
Tower got taller.

She pillaged 
their apathy

Sooner or later
she shut her mouth.