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.

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