There once lived a girl from over the moon
who sadly surveyed
her reflection displayed
in the liquid-glass waters of a placid lagoon.
And she'd sit and she'd cry
in depths of the sky,
and silvery stars
fell as tears from her eyes.
In the bleak, quiet black
the stardrops were strewn
as she sat by the pool just over the moon.
A pale, slender chain choked her pale, slender wrist.
It bit and it held her,
it rigidly quelled her
feeble and weary attempts to resist.
The chain was a strangling tether comprised
of hatred and lies,
of the parts of herself
that she most despised,
the parts of herself she always disguised.
The parts that looked back from the quiet lagoon,
from her darkened reflection just over the moon.
The water was Memory, the chain was called Guilt,
and the girl was imprisoned
by sins she envisioned
in the glittering links of the chain she had built.
And so the girl sits, by her pool so still,
and in streams from her eyes
more stardrops spill;
they trickle and fall, and slowly fill
the lagoon on whose bank she always will
sit trapped by the shackles she refuses to shed,
till the universe falters and the world is dead:
a girl in the dark, forever marooned
by a pool of her tears just over the moon.