miss Plath you make my heart ache
-or, Sylvia, if you prefer-

the world wasn't ready
you deserved to be heard

miss Plath I always see you now
whenever I close my eyes

I feel you in my tears, breathe
you out in disappointed sighs

miss Plath your troubled tender
step, is met in like with my own

descent to darkened corridors
we're both so far from home

sweetest sorrow, you still emanate
transcend and warp my days

in this time I feel it more than ever
in the most dire of ways

miss Plath I wish I could do more
than a mad man's rambling ode

but I sing it now: if life were fair
darling, you would not have died alone