stillness lurks
within the hollows
of such a soul,

leaving her perished-
reduced to ashes
all eroded and old.

A savior?
she haven't one,
for, her heartache has multiplied a ton.

creativity has left,
emptying the birds
from their newly forsaken nest.

one may find that;
her worrying is quite the bore,
but it is doubtful they've ever been quite as sore.

Do enjoy this little piece. I credit it to my intense boredom in Geometry, whilst dealing with incredibly sore shoulders.