She walked
Her head hung down
Watching her feet

Move on their own
Restless hands
Grasped at things

No one else could see
Dark circles watch
As eyes grow wide

Guardians of her gaze
A high red flush
Of something wrong

Stained the hills of her face
Midsummer blazed
Her rotting cage

Death took his hat off
At the grave
The scarecrows drape the colored page

Marking giant mistakes
Getting stronger in pain of
These special things

All wrapped in plain



And no one saw
Pale shoulders shake
Passed over for

Shinier things
For brighter birds
With bigger wings

Take up all of the cracks
Nothing left for the faint
This poisoned mouse

With paws on stars
Mottled gray fur
Ignored



She quickly dreams of fall

Where brighter flowers dive
And bend
Quicksand's

Right hand
Weighs in
Low weathers

Greatest friend
Wet breath in shallow lungs
That drown

Quick hands
Like doves



The scarecrows drape
The colored page

Gaping selfish mistakes
Grinning wider each day
Growing stronger in pains

Of these special things
All wrapped up in plain
An imbeciles glory day

Spitting coins at the fade
Of these special things
Twilight final soft claim

All wrapped up in plain
All wrapped up in plain
These special things