Beautiful skin paired with lovely hair;

Shes the principle of perfection, yet

Will she see the beauty with skin so fair?

She looks for meaning in a cigarette

While running from voices inside her head.

They call her crazy, call her stygian.

Tell her she'll never find a man to wed

Too bad for the men shes a lesbian.

Losing herself in a draft of whispers,

She cries to get out the feelings she hides.

By the nights end, her words are muddle slurs,

For the alcohol only comes in tides.

And tonight she will cry most silent tears;

While in a house with the one she most fears.