She is a ton of mess, as ugly as sin
Confined in a flagon by contrast, hate and lies.
She exists within herself rusting her flare,
Bears the pain of living inside a shell
Because she knows they will cut her head
If she plucks up courage to live like a tiger.
The half smile that she puts on her soft lips
Doesn't let the words break free off her tongue,
And Buries the faint hope that rises quite often
In the place of detention in her erratic heart.
And wonders if she can ever come out of that jar of jail
And summon to face the other side where the devils reside.

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