Wrapped in Plain

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 watched
 Her eyes grow wide
 Guardians of her gaze
 The high red flush
 Of something wrong
 Stained the hills of her face
 Midsummer blazed
 Her rotting cage
 Death took his hat off
 At her grave
 Scarecrows drape the coloured page
 Marking giant mistakes
 Getting stronger in pain of
 These special things
 All wrapped in plain
 No one saw
 Pale shoulders shake
 Passed over for
 Shinier things
 Brighter birds
 With bigger wings
 Took up all the cracks
 Nothing left for the faint
 This poisoned mouse
 With paws on stairs
 Mottled gray fur
 Ignored
 She quickly dreams of fall
 Where brighter flowers dive
 And bend
 Quicksands
 Right hand
 Weighs in
 Low weathers greatest friend
 Wet breath in shallow lungs
 That drown
 Her hands
 Like doves
 Scarecrows drape
 The coloured 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 twighlights final soft claim
 All wrapped up in plain
 All wrapped up in plain
 These special things