Mystery is draped around her like a cloak,

Or perhaps a burial shroud.

It darkens her heart and burdens her soul. 

The sky has heard her screams. 


She cries. It's lies. 

Some you tell to yourself so you can deceive others. 

Hiding has become her fortress built of air 

That the slightest breeze of longing blows away. 

Safeguards disappear and people are hurt but every one insists that it's better. 

The sad part is that nature agrees.

Survival of the fittest is killing her.

She doesn't even believe it exists.

The funeral pyre is built and she calls it her home.

Burning pain is truly all she knows;

It isn't strange.

Let the demons bury her in peace.

Shield your eyes with mystery.


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