Time's line goes steady and smooth, never flailing,
That's where she was found, endlessly disobeying.
For it's rhythm twisted, underneath her timeless hood,
And grace was that upon her, aging yet full of youth.
She were the crimefighter in prison, her body the barns,
For they hold minds tight, concealing soul's charms.
Nature floats alongside, swaying in the gentle breeze,
'Twas her only friend, no other could truly see,
That magic foremost drags minds from existance,
And let wander 'cross blazing skies; spirits set free.
Never were she happy, nor angry, simply still,
And so terribly depressed; to live would make her ill.
That person high through fog, here yet never there,
That woman will be me, when age comes, and despair.
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