She goes dancing in the windstorm
Air between her fingers almost
Clutching oxygen but it swims away
Laughing at her as it brushes the
Leaves natures melodies being sung
Alto voices raising high above soprano
Noise for once no longer mediocre

Her hair wraps around her face a
Decaying color hardly suiting to anyone
Not even her but she still twists the
Creatively boring strands tugging
Quietly like she hates it more than
Anything but really she adores this
Spontaneity that is out of her control

Bare feet drift along the path that isn't
Really laid out at all just chaos she's
Almost enjoying making these mistakes
Nowadays letting regret wash over her
Body moving rapidly eyes staring at
The future she can't quite comprehend
And in the end it doesn't matter

While she digs her knees into glass
Bones left from internal wars where
Millions of imaginary faces died not
Knowing what was happening and she
Cries for them tears chilled against
Her cheeks there is a knot of dread
Pulsing in her lips that tells her nothing
Can be done to save anyone anymore

She is nothing and she is everything
Pulling life into a strand of time that
Has no bounds because alpha never
Was and omega is just some fantasy
This is never ending with no cycle

Now she lives in a graveyard with all
Those people who will never speak
Again their mouths sewn shut by a
Mystery that takes us all and never sleeps
For what is life without death but
Another lack of purpose driven into
Our skin so she swings into the cold
Rock whispering secrets to those long
Gone making her life worthlessly
Perfect in every way

Glancing at her broken fingers that
Used to make piano songs and words
That turned people's hearts into
Smooth water dripping into her cupped
Palms but now hold onto dead black
Leaves while raven beaks pick at her flesh