With porcelain hands,
She holds the stars of heaven,
With which she draws lines so heavy,
So blackened and bold,
Even the strongest fall at sight,
Her tears are heavy rain,
That drown every soul in range,
Flooding hearts and minds,
With the dark oceans of her thoughs,
Washing out the sunshine and smiles,
Bringing only sorrow and despair,
All beauty is overwhelmed by her tragedy,
With her, there is nothing but the hollow sunrise,
Barely shining beyond the infinite horizon