Echoing of footsteps, voices of suppressed sobs,
Wandering in the corridor late 12 o clock,
A lonely heartless soul as she tries to cob,
The walls that came tumbling down with a worth of coldness' dock.
Can't anyone hear her plea? It's frozen in the walls,
That sweet melody on a large stage of orchestra,
Those dreary words of a heart, draped around a shawl,
Of hopelessness and pity- as she sings lalala.
Has anyone seen her eyes? Obscuring the wound within?
Words hanging in the air: unsaid, unspoken,
She is a dead soul! How is she living?
With memories so terrible and unguidedly folden.
Has anyone noticed her lips?
They tremble as she speaks,
Of love and satire: those sailing sunken ships,
Inflicted by her frenemies: a will of revenge bequeathed.
And then came the day, her breath series of mingles,
My palms in her hair, a hopeless tragic farewell,
One moment she was mine, the next she was the angel's
And what now prevailed was a stone cold dingle.
She needed not a fighter- she herself was one,
Against the regiment of her memories- bursting with retaliation,
A protector was what she needed; for her thoughts to be shunned,
Ahhhh! Hale and farewell : Queen of the kingdom of Isolation.