A blank is not always empty,
endearment for aye, not depict sympathy.
Where a void being can still brimful,
With a soul and feel in this world grimful.
When the glitters in eyes is but cloak,
To dreams, ruined with tick of clocks.
While hands are working for hours a day,
the mind; it crawls over thorns and hay.
A destiny chaser with nothing in head;
No maps, no ways, only zeal; it is sad.
Building castle of sands in the midst of blue,
hoping the legion of grain is strong in lieu.
Chosen by fate and defied by self,
Hurt her muse like a little knave elf.
Magic, miracle, releivo of star dust;
A pearl trapped in ocean's abysmal gust.
Nothing to see but a pretty simper;
Her fragile noggin, a self crimper.
Here you see a cold face and hatch;
On a bleak canvas, A colorless sketch.
The flechettes of words can never see,
Incessant agonies of urge to flee.
Not every hollow is empty, it's true;
Ergo her heart is an emblem of sanctity, for few.pray for all