It has been 243 days of night
The bell tolls shollow and loud
to madam’s with broken souls,
collected like prized toys
decorated with repressed glory.
A walking legend silent in grace.
she’s charming, he spactates in awe
bask in garden hauls
an uneventful forgiving harvest,
it’s another way to feel alive.
Closed in a memory,
She realizes it’s too bright
day won’t come.
he can’t put up a fight
they won’t see the light.
She luls back to 243 days of night.