"You can't rhyme."

                "You can't walk."

"You can't sing."

                "You can't talk."

I throw down a rope to carry her up

She takes it a noose, and scatters off.

She wails for help, she screams, she pleads,

Ignorant to my open sanctity.

Sitting high, but thinking low,

Impervious to truth, she drones,

She cuts the rope.

I watched in dismay-

She never tries to suck the venom away.

"There are things you can do, there is a way out!"

But straight through me she looks,

Because, her pain-I know nothing about.  

"You can't rhyme"

                "You can't walk"

"You can't sing"

                "You can't talk"

But by god she'll let me stand alone,

Suck the venom and chew the bone.

While she sits on high, feeling so damn low,

About her bitter life-Her rusting throne.