The girl, with eyes so even,
Stared at the mirror. She bled:
out pain, out tears, out regret.
Those harsh scars showed what she meant,
Each day, each minute, each time
her heart ached for that moment.
The moment that may never
rise, never fall. But before,
her spirit shone like the sun,
like the stars. It's now in shrouds.
The ominous, unwelcome
shroud of pain, of suffering
of the knowledge she believes:
It may never happen, it
may always be silent. Not
one word of this moment.
She wants, though recognises
this moment may never be,
that she will never be free
of this torment, of longing,
this to end. Her belonging
lies deep within her heart's des-
pairing hole. Her time for bliss
lies within her countless dreams.
Her throbbing aching for that
Moment.