Walled up inside, she walks alone
Cross beaten paths adorned with stone
And bushes reaching out to grab
A traveller who has left her home.
Her face may be decently fair,
But beauty fades each passing layer.
Inside her heart a malice breeds
Yet onlookers are unaware.
Each step she takes across the fields
Of blossoms rich and lovely yields
A gravesite ready to receive
The flowers' corpses who's fates she sealed.
Those who have looked into her eyes
Can see despair brewing inside.
The pools of pain and anger fill
Each nook and cranny in her mind.
Her voice sends chills through those who hear
The words she speaks. With sounds she tears
Through warmth and comfort others own
Till aching silence is all that's there.
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