Crying so hard the tears bleed excessively;
Clotting became extinct over times hence.
Numerous levels of grief stand in a silence awaiting its selection;
Hesitating to make a move for she may grasp it.
Relinquishing the bittersweet fallacies society has produced frequently;
Epitomizing environmental production of neglect, oversight, and undetection;
Pure negative succession.
“Who will cry for the little boy?"
Well, what about the girl who weeps?
Her foundation built with unsung dreams- the only evidence of strength resides in its branches.
She produces success, positives, and gains on the limbs of her life's tree;
But even with seen production it perished because of its foundation.
"Now, that's what you call strange fruit."
Shielded with the armor of silence, and a sword of secrecy;
Annihilated by the capacities which encamped throughout her soul's present state.
Transparency existed much with specialized vision;
For it was a known angle degree to detect her pain's dimension.
Vivid memory and recollection surpassed known factors and aspects;
Repetitious entrapment of the mind resounds in a midnight so far that even a supernova couldn't map out its location.
Reaching for an extension hoping one exists, yet grabbing emptiness provides a filled void.
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