Never was she the type to chase
For if she moved an inch
Failure would take her place.
Her footprints have molded the soil
Marking where she always waits
An illustration of her mortal foil.
To leave would mean to miss
What could finally be coming
To bring eternal bliss.
There she will wait
Until the earth swallows her whole
Where she sealed her fate.
Jun 10, 2025
Jun 10, 2025 at 2:23 PM UTC
Never was she the type to chase
For if she moved an inch
Failure would take her place.
Her footprints have molded the soil
Marking where she always waits
An illustration of her mortal foil.
To leave would mean to miss
What could finally be coming
To bring eternal bliss.
There she will wait
Until the earth swallows her whole
Where she sealed her fate.