Averlaine's musings

Her smile is a rictus enshrined in her skin, knowing how dreadful the thoughts she lets in
As her name denotes, darkness stretches for miles, known only for helpful and pleasant a smile
She probes the others with questions aplenty, just so they can't see her heart is so empty
She cares, of course, but assumes others don't, if ever she gave them a chance, but she won't

No hatred internal, that's not her thing, melancholia without sadness inside her sings
She stays apart as natural as breathing, confident in the story she's weaving
As long as they don't see where she's leading, no one will question her internal bleeding
Tears drain away, as she'll always say, each time she's asked, confident, "I'm okay"

She carves out her feelings to help her decide, exactly how covered she keeps her insides
So far, the gaps in her armour are none, so few swords having attempted this one
Lack of appeal, she shrugs as expectation, knowing it's best to ignore this generation
It may break her heart, but she keeps it within, communal now with all else in her skin

Relief is sharp but achingly brief, now only adding to ancient belief
Keeping the pieces she's cut out of sight, occasional review in darkest of night
Retained in a box she keeps hidden away, she goes through the motions, holds less every day
As time passes, she tries not to trip, watching the sands as they so slowly drip

Breaks down in a vacuum of her very own making, gasping for air while unkind stands breathtaking
Drowns in a river of silvered relief, providing a foothold for ruined, wretched grief
Falters, she falls to her knees and laments, another nail sinks in to fresh laid cement
Grey clouds swirl high and lightning strikes below, right through her, prone, washed away her ego

She rages as pieces are ripped from her breast, knowing no one ever passes her test
Torrents torment her, she never complains, each drop steals tiny pieces of his name
Agonies suffered in this lonely place, felt so intensely, in full, slowed down pace
She pauses a moment to reset herself, returning the box to its rightful shelf

Dons her façade as so perfect a mask, returns to her next important daily task
Ready for more though aloof her heart weeps, clear that the sentence is all that she keeps
Seek and destroy is her motto once more, searching for kindred sadness at the core
Never her equal but something so pure, fading in light she considers her cure