the girl who stood tall had flowers in her hair
she was made of glass
like pure water that refracted iridescent rays
an arch where butterflies danced around

green-eyed creatures clawed
at her precious skin
she was different you see
and it seemed a sin to be

noticeable were
thin lines formed on her torso
and rays now warped and dull
a broken bridge where butterflies danced no more
people paid no heed because she still was whole

relentless rain fell on her fragile skin
as her erratic heart pumped
alongside scattered pitter-patters
that matched the static in her mind

as night left and day arrived
the sun seemed to scorch her frozen form
but the fire was futile in sculpting her
into the crystal-clear glass she used to be

glass beads fell from her lifeless eyes
dissipating as they hit concrete
like the rain drops she'd struggled to save
and her sockets seemed hollowed

she was akin to a worn-out chapel window
that heard selfish prayers echoing within
frosted face, hands chipped in the corners and a weak heart
cracks that could be mistaken as arteries branched throughout her body

it was no surprise when she crumbled from their touch
into jagged forms sharper than broken porcelain vases
the pieces that bounced off the floors played poignant melodies
her screams were finally heard

it was too late when the pieces no longer fit
as bright lights devoured her
within the irretrievable mess were crimson rays
and reflections broken and shaggard

she dug deeper into their skin as they tried to fix her
deeper into their veins and scraping their vessels from within
with the realisation of deeds undoable
they shall beg for their hearts to stop

for the girl made of glass now lay with flowers in her hair
and butterflies dancing over her
but she no longer stands tall.