She floated way above her world
and viewed it from afar.
She liked it far from company;
she much preferred the stars.
She wished to see the stars up close,
to hold the light in her hands,
to stay in the inky blackness
and make the stars her friends.
Her solitude was freedom from
a life of pain and despair;
up there the silence was deafening,
up there she floated without a care.
Her isolation gripped her,
clawed at her insecurities;
she was alone, deserted, detested,
building a life on futilities.
She's once known a life of happiness,
alas she had loved and lost,
so she left her life long ago
without considering the cost.
Now the memories simply fade away
though the pain never seems to numb.
So she blocks out life and past and thought
until sleep begins to come.
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