Deafened and Delicate

And, oh, she was beautiful,
[they lied through their teeth],
for she walked on stale sentiments,
and left trails of glitter gloss in her wake.

She walked on stale sentiments,
a visionary amongst blinded fools;
her ideas spoke aloud,
and they all approved in envious greed.

But, oh, she was beautiful,
[they spewed into the silence],
as she danced above hush and cry,
batting cigarette ashes from her eyelids.

She danced above hush and cry,
a mere goddess preying on emotion,
and they worshipped her;
they worshipped her at every tragic step.

And, oh, she was beautiful,
[they said over and over again],
as she needled fireworks and hate,
dropping used Band-Aids in their stead.

She needled fireworks and hate,
siphoning light and energy in vain;
her dark mind fornicated,
and they devoured its spawn thoughtlessly.

Yet, oh, she is beautiful,
[they promised the onlookers];
she, alone, is deafened and delicate,
a study in let downs and old controversy.

She, alone, is deafened and delicate,
a horned flower standing on the reeds;
and they defile her memory,
vomiting lust upon her withered petals.