She planned to sleep like a baby,
But, ended up writing his obituary.
In weighing the right vs the wrong,
She dissected thoughts of him all night long.
It could’ve been a shooting star,
Instead, she was left holding a melted chocobar.
Why do dreams always come with price tags?
Why is it that absurdity, and, pain end up together as gags?
Why is her truth someone else’s lie?
Why does it seem like her finger got stuck in the pie?
Like a bloody tooth hanging on the length of a dental floss,
She was scraped out of her shell, while he walked on with a casual toss.
And, now that peace has numbed the searing pain,
She seems disinclined to rise from the ashes again.