The delusions she’s been dwelling on,
Wrecking her pool of mental lawn
No escape can she find on her own,
At the world’s dejection being thrown.
Whilst simple life and love she craved,
Backstabbers and abrasive people she faced.
You only come up after being so low,
All that she reaped, she didn’t even sow.
Perhaps mediocrity was not the wallflower’s calling,
Her pitiful state, is no more appalling.
Her constant mulling has shooed people away,
Were once close buddies all lost in a day.
Dark music & tears are ruling on,
Paranoia at first, hysteria is newborn
And when she’s been injected to put into bed
We check her pulse rate, Hold on She’s Dead!