The damsel in distress
lay all alone in her bed
unable to comprehend
why no one would understand.
Her love was gone
Her heart undone
what else for her was to come?
She lay still,
without will,
feeling nothing but ill.
Nothing was ideal,
only surreal
What else could she conceal?
She longed to see the light once more.
Longed for the wind to blow her hair most of all.
Desired to once again breathe the nature's sweet odor.
How could someone deny this to her?
The suffering was now pride
Drenched in a single and lonely life,
Unable to fall aside, for it was now her only light.
And so the damsel in distress
lay all alone in her bed
enticed to kill
nothing but her own will.
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