Malady, broken fences, without any salvation, without any hope.
Her brain was floating like a dead dry log, trying to find a shore.
Her heart is craving for a smile from a distance.
Her visitors, echo from her past, Hi, how are you?
And the pain, yeah, the pain stays the only dancer in her life.
The light has faded, the mirror went flying in her gray sky, searching for her face.
The cancer has been nursing on her bones, bit by bit, her poem will never be complete.
She will always be that unfinished book, that open wound, the flood of tears, the cry, the sadness, it's never her mistake.
Malady just calls her name.