She spins a web
Like a clock
Flow and ebb
A prudent stock
it does not confound
With time
A truth is found
With rhyme
With reason
Blood on her hands
Another season
******, it stands
A game; check and mate
Gone once again
Silence, no debate
Just another 'friend'
An absence of notion
Perpetual motion
Lost inside
No self to confide
A storm in the ocean