She would know it by the end, the way they’d come and gone again. How what they saw was just the worst—they’d missed the parts of heart’s true thirst. She’d slung her words for fun and joy—for crying tears and not some ploy—not knowing what they would destroy—how she’d hurt her favorite boy. She had sought at last the way, how truest heart would like to say; to speak of him in hand and prove her worth to that fair man’s real groove.
He’d witnessed all her meanest mean—beyond that which the world had seen—an epic shot at hurting back the way she’d felt while left to lack.
She’d felt him there, assumed at least, that way she cracked had shown her beast. She thought them there so long ahead—felt them with her in her head. To never speak a word at all had sent the girl into a fall. It was the hate she’d felt from some—she’d want them gone, she’d just be done. The thought they’d stay to do her harm had set off every true alarm. With nothing there but hateful mirth—she shat her words and turned to Earth. She hadn’t known what they’d been through—at least believed—she’d been told true. Long before that time had come she’d thrown those words into the sun. Assumed them lies just like the rest, saddened thoughts to help make sense—that absence never made a lick—it felt so wrong it made her sick. They wouldn’t want this girl to see the way they chose to cut her free. How they’d known of what they felt—at least deep down—she’d made him melt. The things which happened with her gone—they’d hurt him most, such stupid songs. She wouldn’t ever speak the words—to let it be could be the cure—to know had been a needed thing; to see what all this pain would bring. A horrid thing which tied to her—a greatest failure turned to slur.
She’d wish to let it go at last and once return to heal the past. He’d missed the biggest truth of all—’twas just herself she’d made to fall. Only a scare was what she’d bought for him to run from all she wrought. Those things she’d done which seemed too dark had been the plan right from the start. Her leaps were hers and hers alone—they’d taken her off to the zone; some strangest place among the rest where she could learn from her dark past. The truth of hurt she stowed at deep was what she’d need to finally seek.
She made those leaps with honest hope—for greatest good—that was her rope; the hangman had been God themself—they took her plea to create wealth. She’d been used in all her love to set them free for God above.
