Foretastes of lonesome days awake,
Her tears turned to stone.
Her eyes that once shone
Now forlorn.

The fires that once burned inside
Now have all died
The demise of love
The end of good from above.

Her heart once worn
Now even more torn
Her hands, once unscathed
But now, in blood; bathed.

Her premise, once moral
Now debauched.
Her spirit, once untainted
Now defiled.