Wild, in the heart

And head, driven

By the thought of

Death; strengthened

By an endless

Night, followed by

And endless fight.

Gravity can't pull

Her down; all this

Clashing earned

Her crown. The stars

Are only medaled

Scars; a thing to wear

Like works of art.

And in her eyes, a

Speck of gold, for all

The smiles that she

Sold; and in her heart,

A hollow chamber,

To mourn the loss of

Wilder sorts.