She sits under the burnt-out street lamp,  
Waiting for the sun to rise,  
But there is never enough light,  
She can't see to fight  
And her demons have the upper hand.  
They gnash their teeth in her direction  
And smile a jagged grin,  
Full of broken teeth that spit out echoes of her broken words  
And lies.  
They worm their way through the distance,  
Coming closer to her location,  
And she can smell their vile essence—  
The stench of death and ill repute,  
The stink of inhumane rage and shame.  
It smells of decay:  
Dead trees and dying wildlife,  
Like a city of millions  
In the depths of smog  
From industry gone too far,  
From burning dead bodies in the street.  
They sing of ruin and dismay  
To dishearten the sentimental  
And cause everlasting pain.  
The people say just dance in the rain,  
It will cause the demons to turn and run,  
But smiling under the blackened sky  
Looks like someone who has lost their mind.  
Shadows are long,  
Shade is cold,  
Darkness seeps up from the ground  
Like black tulips that grow in graveyards  
And the fork-tongued agents of doom  
Dance on the tombs of the fallen,  
Those who never witnessed a dawn.  
She stands alone under the darkened lamp,  
Waiting for the crest of the sun  
To roll down the hills like golden honey,  
To cover all the wounds found in the woods of darkness,  
Where demons crawl like maggots feasting on the souls  
Of enlightened and brightened and frightened too.  
Who will fight her cause?  
Who will stop and pause?  
Who will offer a hand or a shoulder  
To carry the boulder  
To just hold her.