Devils bride stumbled on reflections
of her in pieces shattered personality,
healing shimmers of silver mirrors
weren't salvation this time.
All the storms, sighs and screams
built up this moment framed by darkness;
eager glances flooded all evidences
of her green-eyed existence.
Say a wordless prayer,
just to assure her that she's alive;
as she looks on the world from the distance
the image's fading, trapped in time.
Her castle made of illusions
now is a dungeon, cruel and cold.
Soulless words drip from her fingertips
poisoned by loneliness and masked fears.
