a ghost in woman’s clothes
painted the scenery with her hopes
placed stone upon stone
to raise her self-constructed throne

now she shimmers down the hall
through decades of muffled talk
people look up and applaud
the mad words of their brand-new god

a look so lost
a face so dead
she suddenly turned shapeless
can’t be found in the present

she crashes into senses
still cloaked in her absence
feels the burden of ascending
to a non-existent end

a look so lost
a face so dead
she suddenly turned shapeless
can’t be found in the present