She walks

She talks

She moves

And they whisper

“Aaah” and “ooh”

Everyone wants her

While her mind wonders….

Why walk

Why talk

Why move



Shadows and smoke

Here. Nothing. Lingers.

The only remains of her life story –  

A scarred heart,

Grasping empty hands,

Waves of rage scorching from scalp to toes.


This walk.

This talk.

Just like the disillusioned others,

Her tears fill the gutters

As she mumbles and mutters –

“Why? When? This…

When? For me…

Why? This

When will this help me know why?

Should I



This move…?”


She stops

She waits

She withers.

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