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She never had any one
To tell her what she’d done.
No one could ever tell with her,
She would never look you in the eye, sir.
Sir—the only word she’d known to say,
The rest she’d toss away to the fray.
See, there’s this line that divides the insane and the genius.
She danced over that line with the devil, always so serious.
She wants to believe,
But everything runs right through that sieve.
Be a lady, she would hear.
An individual, she would fear.
Own dreams stashed away in a pink box,
Sealed with a bright bow, right next to that cross.
Never opened, her love would stay untouched
Never awoken, she never knew of love and such.
Inadequacies, she would always get
With appreciation, she was in debt.
Her forts were never built long to last,
Her fate was cast.
Her daddy never believed a word she said,
Her whole life she would live to dread.
Every night she goes to bed,
With the hunger of curiosity never fed.
“Deliver us from the evil one,” she says.
“Kyrie Eleison,” she begs.