• She sits there, lifeless, in that forsaken space; enclosed in that white room,
    Without a care or so it seems,
    Everything goes according to plan in reality; her dreams,
    Mischievious angel, what are you hiding?

    Turning sideways confidently with that impish smile,
    Lifting her head higher as she picks up a gentle blooming rose in her porcelain hands,
    As if admiring the fragrance, she brings it closer to her face, ever so slowly,
    Without a second thought her eyes stare at you intensely; her body remaining the same,
    Those dark ravenous eyes, longing for a purpose,
    Temptress? What is your bidding?

    Her teeth rest gently on a single rose petal; black tears falling from her eyes,
    Emotionless, heartless; the petal breaks,
    Falling from her icy lips, it turns to a shade of pitch black coal,
    Shattering, Shattering as it hits the ground.
    The red rose soon follows,
    And as it's color changes, the breeze carries away the dusty fragments,
    Leaving only a circle of thorns.

    She turns away,
    "It's over." she thought as the horrific wreath of agony slips from her hands,
    Then leaves her forsaken room for a new perspective of life,
    Renewed, restored, reborn; her dreams alive once more.

    -"Silent Angel" (pen name for writing)