She speaks in a thousand tongues
Of other worlds,
Of dreams bigger than life.
Her philosophies slant with purpose
To project her audience away
And more toward her reflection
In murky waters, never black nor white,
Leaving them to drown in their own tears.
They realize just before
The last ragged breath
That time has been poorly spent
In her presence.
No path goes back to the beginning.
She doesn’t delight
Seeing their pitiful forms drown.
But sorrow, she knows it well.
She drowns herself in tears,
Chokes on poisonous words,
Swallows her pride,
Forced to accept life for the bitch it is.
This bitch doesn’t deal cards fairly.
The hand she played
Has long been severed.
What does the outcome of the game matter?
Fear drives her motives.
With fear, there is no winner.
Her foes, her friends, and she,
All are alike–
Pieces left shattered,
Thrown aside into puddles of nothingness,
Stepped on, crushed,
The remains left to be washed away
By relentless rain–
Rain that cleanses life anew.