She knows the spirits well and the bounty that lies across the

It is her home to grasp.

She bleeds her hands that have becomest to so many, she kneeds
Onto the flesh, only to awaken to the dark and desolate world
Which has entombed her mind.

The friends are gone, only her dark plant is left.

It holds the secrets she needs and wants, only she can't quite hold
Out her hands and feel it.

Its leaves are laced with the sweet smell of perfume, and she
Hates it more for being more there, more in time than her.

She sits upon the cold ground and cries for the ones she loves
That are gone, and through her tears she sings to the bitterly
Sweet morning sky.