Sparkatale

Through piercing and empty stares
Looking through a pair of jade gem eyes
The light has vanished into the thinnest air
And all the reality suddenly dies.

With one solitary, rapid blink
The world begins to spin.
Her spirit slowly starts to sink
And oxygen becomes thin.

Before her plays a horrid tale
Of wordless images that blur by fast.
She's trapped now in this awful hell
For as long as the play will last.

People that have grey, empty faces
And bodies with no meat upon their frame
They run through all the voids and places
And none of them have a name.

They turn to her with hungered looks
And sadness erupts coldly through her core
She sees all of the lives wrongly took…
Of the people who are no more.

They reach to her with rotted, dripping hands—
The skin peels and falls off the bone—
They want to take her to their barren lands
Hidden underneath the mourning stone…

And while she twists and turns away,
She runs but yet stands still.
And while her spirit had dared to stray,
They look at her with intent to kill.

All these hands, they grab her arms
Digging rusted nails into the warm and gentle skin
She cries out as they cause her harm
They crave the soul within.

The blood begins to form a little pool—
Slides down the curves along her shoe;
They grab at her throat with hands purely cruel…
Her face begins to transform blue.

They dig their teeth into her shoulder
They sip up the warmth that kept her alive.
Her body grows limp, her temperature colder,
As the monsters begin to thrive.

Finally they just toss her down.
She now belongs amongst their ranks
Leave her sleeping in an unforgiving town…
This is how they give their thanks.

But then she blinks her eyes again,
And in two seconds worth of time,
She's been punished from the demons within—
Being a visionary is her unwilling crime.