She walked   Her head hung down   Watching her feet   Move on their own   Restless hands   Grasped at things   No one else could see   Dark circles watch   As eyes grow wide   Guardians of her gaze   A high red flush   Of something wrong   Stained the hills of her face   Midsummer blazed   Her rotting cage   Death took his hat off   At the grave   The scarecrows drape the colored page   Marking giant mistakes   Getting stronger in pain of   These special things   All wrapped in plain         And no one saw   Pale shoulders shake   Passed over for   Shinier things   For brighter birds   With bigger wings   Take up all of the cracks   Nothing left for the faint   This poisoned mouse   With paws on stars   Mottled gray fur   Ignored         She quickly dreams of fall   Where brighter flowers dive   And bend   Quicksand's   Right hand   Weighs in   Low weathers   Greatest friend   Wet breath in shallow lungs   That drown   Quick hands   Like doves         The scarecrows drape   The colored page   Gaping selfish mistakes   Grinning wider each day   Growing stronger in pains   Of these special things   All wrapped up in plain   An imbeciles glory day   Spitting coins at the fade   Of these special things   Twilight final soft claim   All wrapped up in plain   All wrapped up in plain   These special things