She is lost and she needs to be the one who does the find.
She is on a wander and doesn’t know how to read the signs.
She is magnificent but she is dulled. She is wandering ’round rethinking what she’s been told.
She might not be the dream girl, she might not be the one, she might not be quite as enchanting to the world.
She’s been damaged and lamed. She’s hurled herself directly in their paths. She’s made the choices for the fall and now she can’t complain.
Miles in circles with the barest of feet, she is searching for herself, piece by piece.
When the sky is cracked down the center and the thunder comes to call, she doesn’t look for shelter. She let’s the noise ravage through her, bruise her, her ruins are absolved.
She is damaged; twisted at the spine. She is praying for hate to seep in the cracks and take over every bit of her warped and broken mind.
She is wandering, crazed in the dark. Eyes dulled, senses dim, fingers bloody from ripping at her heart.
She wanders deeper into forests not caring where it leads.
She is damaged, she is lost, she barely feels a thing.