Each day she walked the pathways
Each day we saw her there
Yet people failed to notice her
And even less appeared to care.

She often wondered why it was
That she felt so alone.
She was a whisper in the wind,
A silent forgotten moan

And every day as she passed by
We didn’t care to ponder
Why it was she had that look
Of being meant to wander.

We didn’t know the secret fear
That lay within her heart.
We didn’t know the desire felt
That had begun to start.

She didn’t show a hint of this
Upon her daily mask
And had you queried her to tell
You’d find it vain to ask

For deep beyond that placid face
There was a secret passion,
One of nature rash and reckless
And of quite unstable fashion

We saw her as we would see
Any of her kind
But beyond her quite canopy
Was chaos looking to unwind

She felt burdened by the mundane
Held down by what was formal
It all wreaked havoc in her mind
For what is truly normal?

She felt as though the gods above
Were toying with her brain
They sat upon their lofty thrones
And made her go against the grain


She was their puppet
A mere play thing
She was under their power
Taken cover by their wing.

Of course no one saw
What had come to take place
For never did she once
Show anything on her face.

But she was a puppet
Attached with strings
She looked for freedom
Among other things

Each day she awoke
To envy the mist
Something free in the air
Not tied up at the wrist

Each evening she sat
Made jealous by the flame
Something difficult to control
And impossible to tame

And every day that we saw her
We observed nothing wrong
We perceived what we wanted
We glimpsed what was strong

So noiselessly she fell
In between the cracks
She became a figure
Made of stone or of wax

This all went unnoticed
For we see what we want
and to this very day
the memories still haunt

And so with that great desire
She left in early dawn
For when we had awoken
We saw that she was gone.