This would be her manic scream—the way she’d see their horror’s sheen—a coating of the way she knew that thing which brought her deepest blue. Bitch was right, that’s what it was, these cowards would just run from love. Over again it was the same and made her feel she was insane. To be extremes of light and dark—quite singular—type-one made art. They’d show the ways she needed help along with friends to spread the wealth. She felt such hurt within her chest which left her seeking for some rest. Peace was found by friendly gaze—some spoken words to break the haze. She’d come to presence when with friends and was they way her heart would mend. To find them was the cursed key which seemed to set her demon free; for they’d not come in fear of truth, her channel opened was uncouth. She’d scream in fury at all lies and not be wrong despite despise. Forever hated for the parts which came to find their centered marks. While often wrong she’d be quite right when calling others on their fright. She knew the way of coward’s tales for she had lived that life of snails. This world would break her right in two—so watch your back she’ll come for you.
