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.