A Story About Her

For she was made of love and dust,

her body trapping an ocean inside.

She encountered herself in wonderlust,

looking for something she could never find.

A love like hers: innocent and pure,

willing to give, to try, to care;

making the world seem more secure.

But those she encountered ran scared.

For she was in a constant battle

- one none of them could ever handle -

for all the darkness she was just one candle.

Her infinite soul urging to break free,

denying to turn into something she could not be.

She then drowned in her own internal sea.

And it’s sad to think that, if

she had found someone alike,

it would prevent that, from the cliff,

she jumped looking for delight.

For she was made of love and dust,

and to herself she was not kind.

Because she had no one to entrust,

she died for something she could never find.