Dark heart

She cried diamonds,

But her hands were stained black,

For she was not pure,

With a heart made of black.

And that gleam of the light,

Had confirmed her worst of fears,

Crowds yelling and screaming,

As her essence drew near.

And she was not good,

But she was not bad,

For she understood not,

All the power she had.

And they hid from her,

As her thoughts were so loud,

And the cost of being seen,

Was the same as being found.

So the words of her lips,

Slid out like an eclipse,

And her shadows as they warped,

Let her image lie trapped.

So she still cried her diamonds,

And her hands still stained black,

To remind her, not pure,

But black still at heart.